


Love Me as I Am

by swimmingwolf59



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Abusive Father, Angst, Bad connections with parents, Bisexual Inigo, M/M, Romance, Sexuality Crisis, Suffocating parenthood, Trust, Underage Drinking, hidden identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-04-08 01:10:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 40,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4284939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimmingwolf59/pseuds/swimmingwolf59
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inigo's father is critical and strict and represses his dream to be a dancer whenever he can. Laurent's mother is logical and strict and prevents him from becoming a novelist and making friends. They both have their hidden passions and pretend to be someone they aren't. No one ever knew, or understood the real person behind the mask, until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ever since he was little, Inigo had always known he wanted to be a dancer. Watching his mother was breathtaking, and he had always envied the awed and happy faces that Olivia’s dancing produced from everyone around her. He wanted to be like that – he wanted to make people happy.

However, he had inherited his mother’s shyness: he had no idea how to approach her and tell her that he wanted to learn to dance. So, instead, he would hide in barrels, in trees, or anywhere he could so he could watch Olivia dance. Then, when he was alone, he would try to mimic her moves. Eventually his mother had caught him and, to his surprise, had been delighted that her son wanted to be a dancer. She would take him into the woods and teach him the basics.

That was before Inigo’s father found out about it. Olivia had just begun to teach her son the first dance she had learned as a child, and she invited Gregor to come and watch when he was ready to perform it.

Words couldn’t describe Gregor’s anger. Dancing was for girl, he had shouted as he stomped over to Inigo and shook him, ignoring Olivia’s protests completely. Boys were for fighting, for protecting dancing girl. That Inigo wanted to dance was disgusting, disgraceful, and he should be ashamed.

As a child, Inigo couldn’t understand why his father was angry. He did know that his anger had brought tears to the child’s eyes and he was bawling before Olivia could intervene and stop her furious husband. Gregor had then turned on her, blaming her for their child’s tears.

“See what you do?!”

Gregor had then dragged his crying child out to the training field and promptly taught him how to wield a sword. It had interested Inigo, at first. However, he soon found himself sneaking off into the woods, the same woods where he had first learned, to practice his dancing. Since his mother was basically forbidden from teaching him anymore, Inigo had begun to make up his own routines. Many of them were based off of his mother’s dances that he had watched his whole life, but they were different since he couldn’t quite remember how they all went.

That was how Inigo reached his teens: a strong, mercenary that strived to please his father on the outside, a shy dancer on the inside.

Not that him being able to wield a sword impressed his father for long. Day after day, Gregor found something wrong with Inigo and wouldn’t hesitate to tell him. He almost never complimented his son. When Inigo killed his first Risen, Gregor criticized him on his posture. When he began flirting with girls, Gregor demanded to know why he was carelessly tossing his love around and not treating the girls properly. When Inigo broke into tears, for whatever it was, Gregor would hit him upside the head and tell him not to cry.

 _Be a man._ That was Gregor’s motto and, no matter what he did, it seemed Inigo could never meet his criteria.

When Inigo was eighteen, after an especially bad bout with his father over flower picking, Olivia had quietly ushered her son out of the tent. When he questioned her on where they were going, the pink-haired woman put a finger to her lips and took his hand as she led him somewhere. Though he was more curious than ever, he shut his mouth and let his mother lead him.

Their destination surprised him. Olivia had stopped in front of a crowded bar, where loud music and dancing bodies pushed against the walls of the small establishment. As Inigo’s mouth hung open, his desire to dance suddenly flooding his chest, his mother gave him a small wink.

“Don’t tell your father,” she had giggled, and then promised to cover for him until morning. As the woman walked away, Inigo realized that he could never love his mother enough.

He had entered the bar. He had danced, he had flirted, he had drunk until his head spun, and for once no one was breathing down his neck and criticizing everything he did. It was liberating, and Inigo found himself laughing and smiling more than he had in his entire life. He even found himself following a beautiful blonde into an upstairs area, his head buzzing in drunken bliss as he obediently joined her on the bed.

Something in the back of his head told him he would regret it in the morning, but he didn’t care. For now, he was at peace, and he wanted to make it last as long as possible.

In the morning the blonde was gone, and Inigo had to stumble his way back to camp. He had a pounding headache and he couldn’t quite walk straight, which his father had immediately jumped on when he caught him slinking off to his bed.

“What the—?! You drunk! Stupid boy!”

Gregor didn’t often beat his son, but he did then. He beat him to the point of tears, and then beat him more for crying “like a woman.” Inigo only cried harder. He was a complete mess, mentally and physically, by the time that Olivia caught the two of them and pulled Gregor off her son. She reprimanded him, her voice reaching the shrill octave that only showed itself when she was angry. Gregor had scoffed, but he left, and once he was gone the dancer came and tended to her son. She cleaned his wounds and held him as he cried. Then, when he was spent, she tucked him into bed, kissed his forehead, and sat there stroking his hair until Inigo passed into a fitful sleep.

That night, when both his parents were asleep, Inigo slipped outside and headed for the woods. Nothing could keep him from dancing.

 

\--

 

Laurent was up late, as always, constructing his novel. By day, he worked with his mother, when she let him, on solving the mysteries of the world; by night, he worked tirelessly to create them.

He believed the world was full of miracles and mystery. While this fueled his passion to unravel them, he also liked to think that there were forces out there that humans couldn’t fully grasp. His favorite topic of discussion was the human struggle with forces around them that didn’t always make sense. In his writing, he set his main characters on fantasy adventures to discover themselves and on the way they would learn that the world was large and mysterious and beautiful because of it.

Though he loved his mother, and was passionate about her work, a small part of him hoped that there would always be something out there that science couldn’t explain.

Perhaps that was why he got along with his father so well. Kellam’s invisibility had even stumped Miriel, and Laurent had always taken pleasure in watching people try to figure out how a guy in such a large piece of armor had such little presence. He loved it because it couldn’t be explained, no matter how hard anyone tried. He’d always been able to see his father, a fact that further puzzled everyone. Even when he was little the fact had given him much delight.

Though he had to admit he did feel sorry for poor Kellam. The guy tried so hard.

Pushing thoughts of his family out of his head, Laurent leaned over his desk as he scribbled in his notebook furiously. He was so lost in the world he had created, of humans lost in a black area that was nowhere on Earth and filled with strange creatures he had coined “aliens,” that he almost missed someone stumbling past his tent, sobbing. However, the sound did reach him and he set down his feather pen to investigate.

When he peered outside, he saw a figure dash into the woods. He recognized Inigo, and deduced that he must’ve been the one crying. Laurent leaned against his desk, puzzled. He’d never really talked to him, but he hadn’t gotten the impression that he was the kind of man who cried. How could he, when he had such a tough, foreign father? One would think he’d have an iron will.

Unable to quell his curiosity, Laurent stepped out of his tent and quietly followed Inigo into the forest. He wasn’t quite sure why he was doing it, nor did he know what he would gain by it, but somehow he couldn’t help himself.

Inigo headed straight through the woods without ever hesitating or stopping. Laurent realized that he must’ve gone this way many times before, and wondered what purpose he could possibly have for stalking into the woods all the time. There was usually nothing in there but Risen.

However, after a few minutes, Laurent saw a clearing ahead and halted in the bushes directly before it. He didn’t want to expose that he’d followed Inigo, not until he discovered what it was that the other was doing. Peering out through the trees, the mage saw Inigo standing in the middle of the clearing. His back was to him, but he could hear sniffling and knew that the mercenary was still crying. Before Laurent could decide if he should reveal himself and somehow find a way to comfort the other (even though human emotion was one of his worst subjects), Inigo shouted in fury.

He began to dance. Despite his previous tenseness, his moves were fluent and delicate and he moved through the air as if he was flying. When he did a spin, causing Laurent to duck back into the bushes, his eyes were closed and the writer could literally see the anger and sadness wash off his face to be replaced with a calm concentration.

Laurent watched the dance, awed. He didn’t think he recognized the dance as one of Olivia’s, though parts of it would seem familiar, but that didn’t make it any less beautiful. The mage was literally blown away as Inigo would do his sweeps and leaps, spinning around the clearing as if he was a petal blowing in the breeze. Everything was flawless and smooth, and Laurent admired the way Inigo’s muscles moved with such ease and fluency.

It was like magic.

Pulling out his notebook, the writer began frantically sketching what he saw. He drew Inigo’s muscle placement, the way the muscles moved as they transitioned from one pose to another, never once taking his eyes off of the breathtaking sight in front of him.

He had never seen anything so enthralling and gorgeous.

When Inigo finally came to a whirling stop, Laurent’s heart immediately began to ache as he selfishly wished for him to continue. He contemplated clapping, but soon disregarded the idea; he didn’t want to ruin the moment. He watched Inigo breathe, in and out, as fluent and graceful as the dance had been. However, he soon saw the other teen begin to depart, right in his direction.

Scribbling some last minute notes, Laurent ran from his spot and didn’t stop until he was safely inside his tent. Then, without any regard to what time it was, the mage set himself to furiously writing his novel, his sketches of Inigo’s dance spread out before him. His mind was racing and he felt breathless and in the clouds.

His main character had just suffered a crushing defeat, but to his rescue came a dashing, male dancer who, beginning to dance, was like beauty itself…

 

\--

 

Inigo had practiced his dance for years now, so much so that it was like second nature to perform it. He hadn’t made a mistake for a couple of weeks now. It filled him with confidence, and for a while even his father couldn’t bring down his mood.

The only problem was that he wanted to show his mother, and he had no idea how to go about doing it. Just the thought of it brought a heavy blush to his cheeks, making him reconsider his desire to show her. What if she thought it was horrible? How would he ever live down the shame? And what if his father found out? Inigo would cease to exist, not that he’d really want to be alive if Olivia hated his dance…

Feeling depressed, Inigo momentarily dropped the idea of performing for his mother. In his current state, he would never be able to do it.

He had to practice more.

Slipping out at night as usual, Inigo made his way through the familiar woods to his special clearing. As he breathed in the deep night air, he felt his muscles lose their tension as he closed his eyes and began to move. Swirling around the clearing, the secret dancer thought about how this was the only place he had ever really felt at home – some isolated place in the middle of a cursed woods where he could forget all of his troubles and just dance to his heart’s content.

Only here was he able to be the person he really was.

A loud growling suddenly split the peaceful silence, and Inigo came to an abrupt stop, startled. He had never been disturbed before, and as he recognized the guttural roar, he realized with horror that he had never thought to bring a weapon with him. He’d never wanted to, since the sword symbolized everything that he wasn’t and he didn’t want it mixing with his true soul, but now he berated himself for being so stupid.

Stumbling around and falling over as he did so, Inigo looked on, wide-eyed, as a Risen came charging at him. Its grotesque maw opened in another non-human shriek as it stumbled across the clearing, purple mist flowing around it. In its hand was a sickening axe, and Inigo swallowed as he looked at it in shock.

He didn’t want to die. He still had so much he wanted to show his mother; so many girls left to chase. And yet, no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t get his legs to move.

“Elwind!” A voice out of nowhere shouted as a blast of blue wind magic spiraled into the Risen. The blow landed square in its chest, and the creature shrieked as it turned towards its attacker.

Inigo followed its gaze and was shocked to find Laurent, Miriel’s son, standing in the clearing. He wore his usual mage’s outfit with a hat that was much too big for him and his bangs on either side of his face threatened to blow into his eyes as he reached up to adjust his glasses. His expression was serious, as always, but Inigo thought he picked up a slight slanting in his eyebrows and he wondered what the man could be irritated about.

The two had never talked. They knew of each other’s existence, of course, but Laurent had always preferred to spend time alone or with his parents where Inigo had always spent time in the mess hall playing with the other children. Even when the dancer had been forced to learn to fight, he had never run into the other in the training area.

They had simply never had the chance to interact. And yet now, for some reason, Laurent was here, deep in the woods, protecting someone he hardly knew.

As Inigo struggled to comprehend what was going on, Laurent struck the Risen with another blast of Elwind. It did the trick. The creature screamed one last time before it dissolved in a cloud of purple mist.

For a moment, the two boys breathed in silence. Inigo’s breath sounded loud in his ears and he hoped, as a slight flush crept into his cheeks, that Laurent couldn’t hear him. He didn’t want, no, _couldn’t_ admit that he had been scared. That’s not how he was allowed to portray himself: he had to be the strong willed son of a famous sell-sword who wasn’t afraid of anything.

While he’d been lost in his thoughts, Laurent had made his way over to him. He stood over him, his gaze unreadable, as he held out his hand to help Inigo up. The dancer took it and was glad for the support as he pulled himself to his feet. His legs were shaking, and he hated to think what could’ve happened if Laurent had witnessed him pathetically struggle to stand.

“Are you quite alright?” Laurent asked once Inigo made it to his feet. His inquiring gaze into his eyes was making the dancer uncomfortable.

Swallowing, Inigo attempted to speak. “Laurent, what in the world are you doing here?”

“I was observing you dance,” the mage replied, no hesitancy whatsoever. His brow furrowed as he continued, “I was quite enjoying myself until that disgusting varmint interrupted everything.”

At first, Inigo didn’t process what the other had said. When he did, a dark blush warmed his cheeks and he took a flustered step back. He felt like he was going to fall over again.

“You were what?!” Inigo looked around, embarrassed, trying to find a place to keep his eyes. “For how long?!”

“About two weeks now, I believe.” Laurent dug around in his robes before pulling out a small, brown notebook. He opened it and presented it to Inigo, who took it with shaking hands. “Your dancing was fascinating, and so I took dedicated notes in an attempt to capture it.”

Inigo’s mouth flapped as he tried to find words. He numbly turned through pages in Laurent’s book, gawking at the sheer amount and accuracy to them. He had gone to great lengths to make these records, which meant he must’ve been watching Inigo very intently for… t-two weeks?! Gods, how humiliating!

“Wh… H… Yo… Eh?!” Inigo thrust the book back into Laurent’s hands, too embarrassed to look at it anymore. His voice rose to a shrill screech, almost imitating his mother. “Why?!”

“Your dancing is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen on this earth, Inigo,” Laurent replied as if he was discussing the weather. The dancer gaped at him. “Though my petty drawings hardly do you justice, I felt compelled to keep some kind of record of something that managed to dazzle my mind.”

Inigo’s cheeks were getting even darker, if that was possible. He found he couldn’t stand to look at Laurent anymore and he failed to find the words to speak to him. He was so embarrassed that he thought he would melt into a puddle right then and there and die. His dancing couldn’t be _that_ good, could it…?

When the dancer stayed mute, Laurent continued. “I would be delighted if you would allow me to keep watching you.”

Inigo looked at him then. His eyes flew wide with shock and he could feel the blush creep all the way down to his neck. The idea of someone watching him while he danced was mortifying!

“No way!”

 

\--

 

Laurent sat on a log in the clearing, his pen posed and ready as he watched Inigo’s back. It was the night after the Risen attack, and the mage had dutifully followed the dancer back into the forest, despite Inigo’s deep insistence that he wasn’t allowed to watch him. Laurent had replied logically that it would be no different because he had been there along, but Inigo had just blushed and refused to discuss the matter.

The mage took it as an ascent and took a seat where he could get a great view.

However, the dancer wasn’t moving. “… I can’t do this.”

“Why not?” Laurent was truly puzzled. He had seen how easily Inigo had moved all those other nights; how could he really not know how to dance now?

“Because you’re watching me!” Inigo screeched, his voice jumping a few octaves as he whirled to face Laurent. His face was bright red. “To think that you’ve been watching me all this time is mortifying enough as it is, but now to have you sitting right there? It’s embarrassing, and I can’t do it!”

“But your dancing is so breathtaking,” Laurent replied, a curiosity awakening in him. Why was his presence such a prohibiting factor for Inigo? Should he take it personally, or was it just another person’s presence that made the other jumpy? “And you _want_ to be a dancer, do you not? Why is a performer so embarrassed to perform for an audience?”

“Wait, how do you know about that?!” Inigo looked mortified and his face was such a dark red that Laurent worried he would pass out.

“A little bird in camp told me.” As Inigo opened his mouth, Laurent quickly went on, “You haven’t answered my inquiry.”

“Gah, fine… Every time I think about showing someone, I wonder ‘what if I flop?’ Then as I think about the humiliation as everyone laughs at me, I can’t stand to get up and perform in front of people…” Inigo explained, with a surprising honesty. He was shifting nervously as his fists tightened and untightened.

It clicked in the mage’s mind. “Ahh, so you’re afraid of being hurt.”

Inigo flinched. Laurent had seemed to hit home. With an unknown determination suddenly bubbling to the surface, Laurent continued.

“Your dancing is flawless, Inigo; there’s no probability you would flop.” Laurent felt a weird stirring in his chest. He wasn’t used to being so emotional: his mother had always forbidden it, saying that emotions got in the way of logical thinking and rational problem-solving. He added carefully, “And I can assure that, even if you did flop, I at least would never laugh at you. I fully support your aspirations, Inigo.”

Inigo watched him warily, seeming unsure what to say. Laurent met his gaze evenly, trying to show he wasn’t lying. He didn’t really understand, and that sent a thrill up his spine, but the gaze they shared was filled with a tension that excited him. He felt like some important connection had just been made, but he didn’t know how to begin to address it. When the dancer broke eye contact, Laurent felt a sudden emptiness that frightened and exhilarated him at the same time.

Finally Inigo broke the silence. “… You really wouldn’t laugh?”

A small smile broke out on Laurent’s face. “Come on, Inigo, have you ever seen me laugh before?”

It had the desired effect. Inigo sent him a huge grin as he laughed outright, relief washing the tension out of his body. Laurent had never truly understood the power of words until that moment, when a simple promise not to laugh brought liberating relief to someone who looked like he was previously going to have a panic attack.

“I guess not, ha!” Inigo snorted before he struck a silly, stereotypical dancer pose. Laurent’s mind reveled at the complete change in character as the dancer before him grinned at him, his pores oozing confidence. “Then let the show begin.”

As he started to dance, losing himself in the moment and moving flawlessly despite Laurent’s presence, the mage found he couldn’t keep a smile off his face. He was deeply touched by what had just transpired, though he wasn’t sure why. All he knew was that he was hooked on the intoxicating warmth in his chest and the faint scent of Inigo’s cologne that wafted his way as he danced.

 

\--

 

After an exhausting practice session with Lucina, Inigo sat on a log staring up at the sky. His sword was sticking out of the ground just a few inches from where he sat and he rested his hands on the hilt as he thought.

Laurent had come to watch him every night since the Risen attack. At first, it had mortified the dancer, but now he was surprised to realize that he had gotten used to it; he didn’t mind that much anymore. Though it still brought a faint flush to his face whenever he started, once he began he was so lost in the dance that he didn’t even remember that Laurent was right there. It was starting to give him confidence, and Inigo wondered if he finally would be able to show his mother.

If Laurent thought it was great, maybe Olivia would, too.

Inigo was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear heavy footsteps approach him until his father was standing right in front of him. As Inigo flinched in surprise, his eyes narrowed as he saw his father scowling at him. Great. All he needed was yet another lecture from his father.

“Oy, why you lazing around?” Gregor growled, his arms folded across his chest. He held a sword in one hand and he tapped it against the ground in his impatience and anger.

Inigo frowned. “Because I just finished training, father; I’m exhausted.”

Gregor was not impressed. “So when you in midst of battle, and Risen come at you, you’ll sit down and take break?”

“Of course not!” Inigo snapped, his hands tightening around the hilt of his sword. “I’m not in the midst of battle, in case you haven’t noticed!”

“So when you are, and your stamina fail you, what you do then?” Gregor stalked over and slapped Inigo upside the head. “You must build stamina constantly, or else you die!”

Inigo had to look away as tears began forming in his eyes. He knew his father would do worse if he saw him crying. “Can’t I do anything without you criticizing me?”

Gregor scoffed. “Only if you continue behaving this way. I will not have my son growing up idiot.”

Suddenly, Inigo felt a tight clenching in his chest. He was sick to death of his father’s constant criticism that he’d tried so hard to believe really was just Gregor’s way of showing he cared, like Olivia claimed. Though he’d always known otherwise, deep down he’d hoped that there was some part of his father that cared about him. But now he knew he had just been disillusioning himself: his father could care less about him.

Standing abruptly, suddenly unable to take it anymore, Inigo wiped at his eyes before he spat, “I _hate_ you, dad!”

For the first time in Inigo’s life, Gregor was shocked into silence. He didn’t even try to stop him as Inigo pushed past him, trying his hardest not to make his sobbing audible as he ran out of the camp.

He’d always wanted his father to love him. Though a small part of him rebelled, insisting that Gregor could think whatever he wanted and he didn’t care, he knew it mostly wasn’t true. He wanted to be something his father could be proud of, but he knew that he wasn’t the kind of person who could be what his father wanted.

He knew that real men weren’t supposed to be dancers; he knew that real men shouldn’t like dancing. He knew that he shouldn’t like flowers, or hate fighting, or have a strange obsession with beauty. None of that was manly, a fact that Gregor was constantly pointing out to him.

When he was younger, Inigo had gone through a phase where he’d really hated himself. He’d tried his best to change, to force himself to like swordplay and to hate dancing. He had been absolutely miserable. And it wasn’t like it made any difference – if Gregor wasn’t insulting his manhood, he found something else to be nitpicky about.

Gregor didn’t seem to like a single thing about Inigo, and that was what the dancer found so hard to deal with. He knew now he couldn’t be anyone but himself, and he’d just have to love himself the way he was, but it was so hard when every moment was full of disappointment and criticism. He’d gone so far as to attempt to take his life, once, but Olivia had found him mid-stabbing and had freaked out. She’d cried so hard that Inigo knew he could never take himself away from her.

But still. Sometimes the thought still lingered.

Refocusing on his surroundings, Inigo paused outside of the bar his mother had taken him to what seemed like years ago and breathed. He focused on calming himself and drying his eyes – he didn’t want sympathy from anyone. He just wanted to go in there and dance to his heart’s content (while simultaneously drowning his sorrows with beer).

Which he did. Despite his constant anguish, Inigo wasn’t a sad drunk – in fact, the only time his confidence really shown through was when he was three drinks gone. He flirted and danced without any regret and smiled so hard his cheeks burned. Though he was usually a bit more careful when he went drinking (after he’d gone overboard that first time and his father had thrown a fit), that night he was so upset that he didn’t care. He drank as much as he had money for, and probably even more than that, though at that point he couldn’t remember a thing.

The last thing he remembered before waking up in a stranger’s bed was that a man had sat down next to him, interrupting his flirtation with some brunette, and offered to buy him more drinks.

Inigo had no idea where he was now. He was groggy and there was a strange buzzing in his ears; he couldn’t tell if it was coming from outside or from in his head. He was completely alone in the bed and, when he struggled to sit up, he found he was completely naked, too. Feeling slightly freaked out, as he had no recollection of hitting it up with a girl, Inigo wondered if maybe he had gotten a bit _too_ drunk the night before. There was also a sharp pain in his back that he didn’t recall from having sex before.

He groaned. His father was going to kill him.

As he scrambled out of the bed and attempted to find his clothes, his foggy brain managed to process that it was still dark out. That was a bit better – he might actually be able to sneak back into his tent without either of his parents finding out.

However, sneaking sounded hard in his current state and all he really wanted to do was sleep.

When Inigo managed to find his way outside, strangely without ever running into the person he apparently slept with, the cold air on his face was liberating. It woke him up a bit, blowing some of the mist out of his head, and he began to think clearly as he stumbled his way back to camp.

There was no way he’d be able to sneak past his father the way he was. Gregor seemed to have a sharp nose for alcohol and always seemed to know when he’d been drinking. Since last night had been especially bad, Inigo knew that it would be a bad idea to try and slip past his father.

He’d have to seek refuge somewhere, but where? Who would even still be awake at this hour?

As Inigo limped into camp, he looked at the different tents he passed, looking for a sign that someone was still awake who would be willing to help him. As he passed the woods where he always went to dance, he saw a candle burning brightly in one of the tents nearby. The dancer’s hopes soared as he realized that it was Laurent’s tent.

Ever since Laurent had started watching him dance, the two had become fast friends. Inigo found himself trusting the other more and more each day and lately the mage was the only one outside of his mother that he went to with his problems. He didn’t know why Laurent hadn’t come to mind immediately when he’d needed help.

However, as he found himself hesitating outside of the mage’s tent, he wondered if this was really a good idea. He didn’t want to be a bother to Laurent, and, while they had become friends, the dancer realized he didn’t really know much about him. What if he had some deep abhorrence with sharing his tent with other people? The insecurities that had disappeared with the beer came flooding back, and Inigo was so nervous wondering what to do that he missed Laurent come out of the tent. His voice made him jump out of his skin.

“Inigo? May I inquire as to why you are lurking outside my tent?”

Inigo almost had to laugh at Laurent’s knowledgeable diction. Even late at night he knew how to sound smart. Shuffling his feet awkwardly, the dancer barely met Laurent’s eye as he mumbled, “Laurent, I need some help… Do you mind if I stay the night…?”

Laurent’s nose wrinkled, and Inigo flinched as he realized that his breath must smell strongly of beer. He was suddenly glad he had decided not to try and face his father that night. However, he suddenly felt ashamed; he didn’t want Laurent’s opinion of him to go down because he found out he was a drinker. He then wondered why he cared so much what Laurent thought.

“I see,” Laurent finally replied after a hard silence. “Of course you may stay. I was just writing, so you can utilize the blankets.”

Inigo thought that, politely, he should protest being given Laurent’s bed, but he was so tired that he wasn’t about to turn down the warmth of the thick blanket. Instead he just thanked the mage and limped his way inside. If Laurent noticed his limp, he said nothing and just followed Inigo back inside.

Laurent had laid out his blankets right next to his writing desk, so, as Inigo collapsed into the warm cocoon, the mage was sitting just a few inches away. A large candle was burning on the desk, and even from his lower position the dancer could see that the tabletop was cluttered with papers. Without really thinking, he reached up and grabbed one of the sheets and began reading.

When he was done, Inigo couldn’t suppress a whistle of awe. “Laurent, this is amazing! Do you do this every night?”

With a surprising show of meek embarrassment, the mage snatched the paper out of Inigo’s hands and cleared his throat as he laid down his pen. “Yes. I’ve hardly exhibited it to anyone, though, so I would kindly request you don’t look.”

“Oh come on,” Inigo pouted. “I show you something personal every night; don’t you think you should show me something personal in return?”

Laurent looked down at him, but Inigo couldn’t read his expression. For a moment he thought his logic had won the mage over, but what he said instead surprised him. “May I ask you a question?”

“Sure?”

“Why did you go out and intoxicate yourself?”

Inigo chewed his lip. He didn’t know if he wanted to share his family issues with Laurent; it was something that was even more personal than his dancing. He’d always portrayed himself as a strong guy who always smiled, and he didn’t think he was willing to let go of that image. If he even could let go of it.

Seeming to sense that the dancer wasn’t going to reply, Laurent turned back to his desk. “Good night, Inigo.”

Relieved to escape the loaded question, Inigo rolled over and curled into a ball under the blankets. It was warm and smelled comfortingly like Laurent, and, before the dancer could be disturbed by that thought, he was pulled into a deep sleep.

 

\--

 

Laurent never showed his writing to his mother. He had tried to, once, but she had been uninterested in something “make-believe” and had refused to even glance at it. Kellam had willingly read it, however, and Laurent was glad to see him smile over the silly antics of the character that was based off of him.

The mage’s new experiment had been to discover how many ways he could make his father laugh. They both needed it. Recently, Miriel had become even more engrossed in her research. She had always been a workaholic, but before she would always include Laurent on anything he wanted to be included in and always took the time to spend time with her husband (though most of that time had been when Kellam was the guinea pig to some experiment).

Now, however, she refused to even acknowledge her family’s existence and locked herself in her experiments all day. She wouldn’t even let Laurent join in, though he had tried many times.

It was like she was bored with them and was spending all her time on more interesting discoveries. It pained Laurent enough already, but it hurt him even more when he saw his father’s dejected look every time Miriel ignored him. It was like he was invisible in an entirely different way, and the mage knew it ate Kellam up inside.

Which was why he dedicated himself to making Kellam laugh. Father and son had to stick together, since they were the only family they really had left. By spending more time together, it was less painful that Miriel was absent.

Not that they could ever stop thinking about it. Every day, Laurent would come up with an idea for research that he would try to take to his mother, hoping that the experiment would interest her in working together again. However, she would either already have an answer for his phenomenon, or she would take his idea and work by herself on it. Kellam would also try every day to talk to her, to remind her he was there. But she was always unresponsive.

Not much made Laurent emotional, but the painful wall that his mother had put up drove him to the edge of tears on an almost daily basis.

It frustrated him that he didn’t know why Miriel had suddenly lost all interest in her family, and it enhanced the loneliness that often consumed him. As a boy, he had never played with the other children. Though Kellam had encouraged it, Miriel had strongly forbidden it because she believed that Laurent had better things to do with his time than play pointless games. Instead he spent all of his time learning about magic and science from her and only interacted with other children when he had to.

He had been incredibly lonely, a feeling that still haunted him in his teens, but he had swallowed his pain because he loved his mother and didn’t want to upset her.

But now even that link was gone, and he felt like he had no one in the world but his father.

Laurent set his pen down, suddenly not in the writing mood, and wondered if maybe he liked creating worlds because he didn’t like the one he lived in. Shaking his head, trying to dispel his downcast mood, the mage looked down at the man sleeping next to him.

Inigo had become an unexpected friend, and Laurent would be lying if he said it didn’t thrill him. He was the first one he could really call his friend, and he was happy they could spend time together.

He’d thought long and hard about why he hadn’t wanted to share his writing with the dancer. What Inigo had said had made sense; an eye for an eye. However, the mage’s defensive response had been so automatic that he didn’t really know what had caused it. Though he thought it might be connected back to his mother again – she had been so against him writing fiction that he’d begun to think that she had stopped experimenting with him because of it. Though he knew the idea was ludicrous, he couldn’t help but think it.

He could share his writing with Kellam because he was his father, but with Inigo it felt like he was exposing the weaknesses of his heart and he found he couldn’t do it.

Though, as he watched Inigo sleep, with a sudden ache in his chest he wished he could tell him everything. He wished he could share his writing with him and share his troubled relationship with his mother. Though he had convinced Inigo to share his dance with him, he understood the impulse to run and hide behind a shield of bashfulness. The anxiety of sharing his writing, even with his father, had often made him want to make himself scarce until his father was done reading.

He sympathized with not being allowed to follow his passions, either because of society (like in Inigo’s case) or a loved one, and he knew that Inigo was one of the few people who could actually understand where he came from. And yet something stilled his tongue every time he considered the possibility.

Perhaps he also feared getting hurt.

Sighing, Laurent closed his notebook and blew out the candle. He didn’t feel like writing anymore, and he knew from previous experience that forcing out stories when he was feeling lonely only resulted in bad writing that he would burn later. All that helped was getting a good night’s sleep for once.

Though, as he stood from his desk, he wondered where he would sleep. Inigo had completely taken over the blankets, and the night was rather cold; resting out in the open did not seem like a logical idea. The only thing he could do would be to…grab an edge of the blankets and slip in next to Inigo.

Laurent’s face flushed with embarrassment. He knew Inigo was drunk, but he wasn’t _that_ drunk. But they were both boys, and they were friends, so perhaps it was fine? After all, it was biologically impossible for anything to go on between them, so logic dictated that it shouldn’t be a problem. Though he dreaded to see what his mother would say. Perhaps it was such a problem for him because he had been prevented from making too many friends when he was young so he was unused to company. Yes, that had to be it… And if he woke up before Inigo, which seemed to be quite likely, then Laurent would be the only one conscious of what had happened.

Making up his mind, Laurent ducked under the covers and turned so his back was facing Inigo before he could change his mind. Removing his glasses, he tried vainly to pretend he couldn’t feel Inigo’s body heat against his back and eventually drifted into a restless sleep.

 

\--

 

The first thing Inigo was conscious of upon awakening was that his head hurt. A lot. The second thing he realized was that Laurent was sleeping next to him. Though the first thing inhibited him from fully processing the second one, he did eventually realize that _Laurent was sleeping next to him._

Jumping about a foot in the air and quickly scrambling out of the blanket cocoon, Inigo’s back slammed into Laurent’s desk as he sat, breathing heavily and watching the mage. His heart was pounding in his chest, like he’d just danced a particularly hard routine, and he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps leaping out of bed had been an exaggeration, but for some reason sleeping next to his newfound friend made him incredibly nervous. Maybe the beer was still talking, and yet…

Inigo wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but it didn’t seem too long before Laurent opened his eyes. The dancer watched him blink and then squint; it was then that Inigo noticed that the mage didn’t have his glasses on. He’d never seen him like that before, and he found it interesting that Laurent looked much younger and more innocent without his specs.

He was drawn out of his weird thoughts as Laurent sat up and put on his glasses. “I am not sure this has an explanation.”

Inigo’s mouth felt like dry wood. “I thought you had an explanation for everything.”

“Not for everything.”

They stared at each for a moment before Inigo looked away, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. He didn’t know how to address the awkward and embarrassed feeling in his chest: he had always been a shy person, and no amount of talking to girls would help him entirely get over that. It was times like this, when he was hung over and it felt like all of his secrets were out in the open, that his shyness would suddenly grip him like a vice and he found he could barely talk.

However, a sick feeling rising in his stomach soon brought him the escape he needed. “Laurent, don’t be alarmed, but I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Really, Inigo, how much alcohol did you consume?” Laurent sighed before he stood and walked to the other side of the tent to grab a bucket. When he came back with it, Inigo couldn’t even thank him before he was bent over double, retching into the bucket as the immense amount of beer he had drank found its way back up. He’d puked from drinking before, but it had never been this bad and he found himself crying from the force of it; by the time he was merely dry-heaving his entire face was covered in tears and snot and his head was pounding fiercely.

During the whole ordeal, Laurent had left the tent (Inigo had been in no state to even consider asking him where he was going). When he came back, he was holding a spare cleaning rag and a glass of water. As soon as he felt his stomach could take it, Inigo took the glass of water thankfully and chugged it. He didn’t even complain as Laurent took the rag and began cleaning up the dancer’s face himself.

“You really shouldn’t do this to yourself. It isn’t healthy,” Laurent said after a few minutes of silence.

Inigo had closed his eyes, trying to find relief from his headache, but he opened them to look at the mage. It took a while for him to focus on Laurent, but when he did he saw his exhausted expression and felt a sharp tinge of guilt; he shouldn’t have to take care of him when he was as exhausted as he was.

Sitting up a bit and turning out of Laurent’s dutiful cleaning, Inigo mumbled, “I don’t have a choice… But don’t concern yourself with it.”

“I have to concern myself with it,” Laurent replied before he stubbornly began to clean the dancer’s face again. Inigo gave in to the soothing stroking and closed his eyes again. “You’re my only friend, Inigo.”

The dancer had begun to fall asleep against his will, but his eyes snapped open at that and he looked at the writer sharply. “’Only’?”

“Only.” Laurent winced. “I cannot say I had a happy and fulfilling childhood.”

Inigo didn’t know what to say. Loneliness was something that even he didn’t suffer from; he’d always had fun with the other children. He’d been captain of the Yarne-Guard when they’d gone to the hot springs; he’d tried so hard to get Lucina to smile that she had blown her top at him; he’d flirted with Morgan (she was so oblivious that she was perfect to practice with); he’d gone skirt-chasing with Gerome and Brady (though those memories hadn’t been as fun…); he actually had fun coming up with names for his sword with Owain, even if he did ruin his weapon in the process; Cynthia had always supported him in his skirt-chasing endeavors; and now Laurent was his sole supporter in his secret dream. To put it simply, Inigo had never been alone; though he sometimes felt isolated in his thoughts and personality, he’d always had human comfort.

He had no idea where Laurent was coming from.

“… I had no idea it was like that,” Inigo finally said after a few awkward moments of silence. “I always thought you liked being alone.”

Laurent looked away. He was silent for a few moments before he spoke up again, his voice the saddest Inigo had ever heard it. “My mother forbade me to play with you all. She felt I had better things to do with my time. It was almost never by choice that I spent my days alone.”

“Why?” Even Inigo’s father wasn’t as bad as that. He may have reprimanded the dancer for playing for too long, but even he knew it was good to build relationships with other people.

The mage met his gaze again and his response was so automatic and mechanical that it scared Inigo, “Fun is not scientific. While I wasted time playing, there were thousands of phenomena that were going undiscovered.”

Inigo was shocked. “She condemned a child to a life of scientific research?!”

“My mother is all about research. So of course, I must be, too.” Laurent spoke softly, and Inigo could tell that he was discussing something that greatly pained him. “There were many instances where I enjoyed experimenting with my mother, but there were other times when I would watch jealously as all the other children played while I was to sit and watch a test tube. And now, after all that she put me through….”

Laurent broke off suddenly. Inigo remained silent.

“… You should go, Inigo. You’re feeling better, aren’t you?”

Inigo swallowed. He didn’t want to leave. His head was still pounding and his stomach flipped every time he made brief movement, but more importantly he felt he was reaching an important development in his friendship with Laurent. And not only that, but the mage had been so lonely for so long. He couldn’t go now.

However, he somehow knew he couldn’t argue with the mage.

“Oh, sure. Besides, I have to, uh, meet a girl for lunch! Yeah, that’s right, you wouldn’t believe what a beauty she is! I’m the luckiest man in the world!”

Laurent didn’t reply, and Inigo suddenly regretted taking a tangent to skirt chasing. He’d been trying to lighten the mood, in the only way he knew how, but for once it hadn’t worked. He’d expected the mage to scoff at him, to give him some logical reason why he shouldn’t be chasing after girls, but Laurent just looked sad and refused to glance at Inigo. The pure emotion on his face scared Inigo; he wasn’t used to seeing it one someone who was usually so calm and logical.

“Uh, bye then.” Inigo stumbled to his feet and, ignoring his swaying vision, made to exit the tent. When he was at the flap, he turned back and looked hopefully at Laurent. “See you tonight?”

Once again, the mage didn’t reply, and Inigo finally left the tent with a heavy heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that I created my own tag with this story - that was kind of exciting xDD Though I hope the love of these two nerds can spread around <3  
> Anyway, I finally updated! :D (If you knew when I actually finished the first chapter, instead of when I uploaded it, you would know that it has been an INCREDIBLY long time) The parents aren't as prominent in this chapter, but don't worry, I'll hit you all with that next chapter :P  
> But I won't say anymore or I'll spoil it!  
> I hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading!! ^_^

After Inigo had taken drunk refuge in Laurent’s tent, the mage hadn’t met him at night to watch him dance. Really, the dancer should’ve been relieved; he didn’t have to worry about being embarrassed anymore. However, he found that he was actually really upset about the whole thing.

It had been a relief to share his true self with someone. No one had ever accepted him and his dream like Laurent had, and no one had ever actually appreciated anything he did. It made him incredibly happy, and he’d come to look forward to dancing for Laurent. He enjoyed the time they spent together. Not only that, but it was a refreshing relief from the interactions he had with his father during the day.

He had no idea where it had gone wrong. He knew it had to be his fault, as it always seemed to be according to his father, but he couldn’t remember saying anything that had hurt Laurent. The mage had made himself sad when he started talking about his mother and his childhood….

Suddenly Inigo knew exactly what had happened. After all, he had experienced it himself many times before.

Laurent was afraid of getting hurt. He was afraid that if he truly opened himself to Inigo that he would come to regret it, just as Inigo often thought about his own relationships with other people.

They really were more similar than he thought.

Standing up from where he’d been lying in bed, fruitlessly trying to sleep (he’d been too upset to go dancing that night), Inigo marched out of his tent. It was late, but Inigo knew the mage would be awake writing. As he approached the tent, he thought about what he was going to say. He knew he would have to be open to Laurent if the mage could ever open up to him, but the thought frightened him and for a moment he hesitated.

Why did he care so much about Laurent’s friendship, anyway?

He knew why: Laurent was the only person who really knew who he was. He was the only person that cared about what Inigo was doing and supported him in his dream. He was the only person who had promised not to laugh at him. And Inigo knew that that meant more to him than any other friendships he could forge.

Taking a deep breath, Inigo partially lifted the flap of Laurent’s tent. “Laurent?”

For a moment, no one answered. The dancer fidgeted outside, worried that Laurent wouldn’t talk to him. He knew he needed the mage’s friendship, but he felt that he needed Inigo’s, too; he didn’t want to be pushed away when they both needed it.

However, the tent flap eventually pushed all the way back and Laurent stepped outside. He looked tired, more tired than he usually was. Inigo immediately felt concern rising in his chest and then wondered why he cared so much. Laurent was always tired – and it wasn’t like it was any of his business.

“What do you want, Inigo?” Laurent sighed. The sadness seeping from his voice broke the dancer’s heart. Determination flooded through his chest and he squared his shoulders as he filled his lungs with air.

“I just wanted to let you know that you never have to be alone anymore. Your mom may have forbidden you to have friends as a child, but I’m your friend now and I refuse to let you be alone. I promise you I’ll make up for all those lost chances you had to play as a kid.”

Laurent looked shocked, and for a moment he didn’t say anything. Inigo slowly lost his confidence and began shuffling awkwardly, not sure what else to say. He’d hoped that that was the only thing that the mage was afraid of, but he wasn’t sure how to take his lack of reaction. Had he guessed wrong? What if Laurent had realized he didn’t like associating with a drunken male dancer and had been trying to give Inigo a hint?

However, before he could lose himself in his doubts, a smile developed on Laurent’s face and, to Inigo’s surprise, he actually started sniffing. “Inigo… You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“I’ll always be here for you, Laurent. That’s what friends are for: there’s your first lesson in friendship.” A wide smile grew on Inigo’s mouth. Before he knew what he was doing, he took Laurent’s hand and started dragging him out of his tent. “So come on – let’s get started! I know you want to watch me dance!”

Laurent actually laughed as the dancer dragged him out of his tent. With a warm heart, Inigo realized that that was the first time he’d ever heard the other laugh. He didn’t know why, but he was really glad they were making some kind of progress.

When they made it to the clearing, the mage took his usual spot on a log near where the trees began to get thick again. As he pulled out his notebook and pen, Inigo breathed, preparing himself for the mindset he was going to need to do his dance. With Laurent watching, Inigo was proud to realize that he was beginning to come up with a coping method for performing in front of others. He just had to get in the mindset, where nothing else mattered besides the dance, and Inigo could feel himself getting better the more he practiced in front of Laurent.

He wondered if he was nearing the time when he could show Olivia.

Before he could begin to dance, however, Laurent spoke up. “Thank you, Inigo. I’m embarrassed to say I let myself get in a slump and almost ruined my one income of happiness; if not for you, I would be dejectedly observing a test tube. So please accept my sincerest gratitude.”

Inigo, who had had his back to the other, turned to face Laurent. A sly smile slid onto his face. “You know, you have a funny way of making everything nice sound scientific and detached.”

Laurent actually flushed before he looked down at his lap. “… I’m afraid that’s a habit I adopted from my mother.”

“Well duh,” Inigo teased, sticking his tongue out at the mage. He then turned back around, preparing himself for dancing again. “I’ll have to teach you some slang, too, as well as the tips on friendship.”

As Inigo began to swirl around the clearing, he could hear the smile in Laurent’s voice.

“I would like that.”

 

\--

 

Laurent never realized how good it would feel to have a friend. Sure, he’d known how lonely he’d felt his entire life, he’d known how badly he’d yearned for a friend; and yet, deep inside, he had convinced himself that it would never happen.

He didn’t know how to make friends. The only way he even knew how to communicate was through big words that scared the other children away. He had no idea what the concept of playing even meant. What did one do when they played? Miriel had submerged him to a life of scientific research to the point that it was the only thing he knew how to do. He overanalyzed everything, which he had discovered really upset most people when they asked for his opinion. He was overzealous in finding solutions to problems, which caused others to be mad when he stuck his nose in too far. He didn’t understand social atmospheres and had trouble picking up on subtleties such as sarcasm.

Because no one would ever teach him, Laurent knew he would never learn; therefore, he knew, he would never make friends.

To know that Inigo was his friend, by choice and not because Laurent was forcing him, was too good to be true. Someone outside of his father was actually interested in what he was doing, wanted to listen to what he had to say, was willing to hang around with him. It was unbelievable for Laurent. Had he had the capability of making friends all along and had just never known? Or was his personality type only compatible with someone like Inigo, who was so confident on his own that he could cover for Laurent’s insecurities? Or, was it the fact that they both suffered from insecurities that drew them together?

“Uh oh, you’ve got that look on your face again.” Inigo’s voice drew Laurent out of his thoughts. When the mage focused on his surroundings, he was surprised to see Inigo standing right in front of him, panting slightly from the dance he’d just performed. “You’re thinking too hard about something.”

Laurent shuffled back a little, suddenly anxious of Inigo’s close proximity. “I was just considering the possibility of—”

“’Thinking about,’” Inigo interrupted. When Laurent met him with a blank stare, he smiled and elaborated, “Instead of ‘considering the possibility of.’ You sound too overbearing, and you haven’t even said what you were thinking of yet.”

“Ah.” Laurent stored the pointer to memory. “Then I was _thinking about_ how nice it is that you’re my friend.”

Inigo seemed taken aback for a moment as a dark blush dusted his cheeks. “Wh-what?!”

“Is that such a weird thing to say?” Laurent asked, tilting his head a little to the side. “I just wanted you to know I enjoy your company and that I thank you for being my friend.”

“W-well, it’s kinda weird…” Inigo mumbled, looking down at the ground as he scratched the back of his neck. “But… thanks I guess…”

A small smile ghosted Laurent’s lips. Inigo truly was amusing – he never would’ve guessed that the son of Gregor would’ve secretly been so shy and bashful. Though he supposed it was only to be expected when his mother was just as bad, if not worse.

“I’m gonna do it again, okay?” Inigo interrupted Laurent’s musings as he backed up to the center of the clearing. His arms were spread out in front of him, his legs bent and a small distance apart. Laurent recognized it as the beginning step of the most recent dance he’d been working on.

The mage nodded as he flipped to his notes. “Of course – please proceed.”

Inigo smirked at him, for a reason unknown to Laurent, and began to dance. The mage must’ve seen this about a thousand times now, but he never got tired of it. Despite the fact that he knew every step, knew every single one of Inigo’s muscle placements by heart, the dancer always managed to blow him away. It was truly magical; Laurent had accepted long ago that he would never truly understand the power and beauty behind Inigo’s dancing unless he tried it himself.

An idea wriggled itself into his mind at that thought, and it brought him such excitement that he could barely wait for Inigo to finish his routine so he could express it.

When the dancer finally whirled to a graceful stop, his motions like a cherry blossom petal floating in the wind, Laurent sat forward on his log. “Inigo, I would like to try an experiment.”

Panting, Inigo raised an eyebrow as he took a few seconds to reply. “What… experiment?”

“Teach me to dance.”

Laurent had been completely serious, which was why he was surprised when Inigo doubled over laughing. He laughed hard for several minutes, to the point that tears were streaming down his eyes, while the mage sat by, wondering what was possibly so funny about his request.

“ _You?_ You want to learn how to dance?” Inigo finally laughed out when he’d recovered enough to speak. “Are you kidding?”

“I am not.” Laurent fixed Inigo with his serious expression. “Through observing your dance, I have come to the conclusion that I cannot understand the magic behind your dancing unless I learn to do it myself. And, quite obviously, you are the only one who could possibly teach me.”

Inigo’s laughter died out and he looked somewhat disgruntled. He eyed him. “You really want to learn?”

“I do.”

Inigo thought for a moment before he stood and walked over to Laurent. “Well, I guess I don’t mind. Though I seriously can’t imagine you dancing. Like at all.” A smile cracked his lips again.

“Then I suppose I’m lucky that you’re the only one who will be seeing me.” A light blush dusted Laurent’s cheeks. “To be honest, the idea is quite embarrassing. But I would like to experience the magic from your end.”

“Then let’s do it!” Inigo grabbed Laurent’s hands and pulled him to his feet. The dancer looked him over. “Though you’re going to want to take your cloak and hat off, and whatever else you have in your pockets. You don’t want anything weighing you down when you dance, at least as a beginner.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Laurent removed his cloak and hat, as well as his magic tomes, and laid them next to his notebook and pen on the log. Underneath his cloak, he was simply wearing a plain white button-up shirt and a pair of probably too tight black pants whose bottoms were covered by his boots. Laurent blushed lightly as Inigo snickered at him.

“So that’s what you look like under your cloak,” Inigo snorted, obviously trying hard to conceal his laughter.

“… You can see why I don’t often display it,” Laurent sniffed, all too aware of his poor sense in fashion. Yet another thing he’d never been taught.

Inigo laughed outright once before he let him be and took his hands in his. “Okay, so you start with your feet like this…”

Laurent tried his best to follow Inigo’s instructions as the dancer swept him around the clearing. It wasn’t Inigo’s usual dance, but apparently it was a typical partner dance that Inigo thought would be fun to learn so that someday they could dance together. Laurent quickly discovered, however, that he was not born to dance: though Inigo was counting out loud for him, the mage had trouble keeping his rhythm. He often rushed and then found himself on the wrong foot, which wouldn’t have been so bad if Inigo hadn’t laughed at him every time he did a little skip hop to get back on the right foot. Laurent was also apparently terrible at keeping in a tight enough space to dance with Inigo, as he stepped on his foot at least ten times. As Laurent stumbled around, trying to keep up with Inigo’s grace and efficiency, he soon began to feel frustrated with his lack of progress. How had Inigo made this look so effortless?

“You and your two left feet,” Inigo teased as Laurent yet again stepped on his foot.

Laurent recoiled slightly, offended. “I do not have two left feet. I can assure you I do not have a birth defect: I, in fact, have a right and a left foot.”

Inigo laughed, which soured Laurent’s mood a little bit until his pink-haired friend elaborated, “Oh my god, Laurent, it’s an expression! Let me translate in terms you’ll understand: you’re hella clumsy when you dance.”

Though Laurent was no longer offended, he deflated a little at Inigo’s words. “… I’m trying my best.”

Inigo looked at him with a surprisingly warm smile. “I know.”

They began again, Laurent’s determination and concentration renewed. Though it was hard to see, the mage _could_ feel himself improving. It was slow, and barely noticeable, but he was getting better at keeping his rhythm. He felt a glow in his heart when Inigo eventually stopped counting; slowly but surely he was losing his crutches.

After what seemed like hours, and Laurent had long lost feeling in his thighs, they came to a slow stop. Inigo dropped his hands and stepped back from him as Laurent leaned on his knees, practically wheezing. He could not remember the last time he’d endured such physical training, and he was slightly embarrassed about how out of shape he was; especially when he realized that Inigo wasn’t even out of breath.

“How do you…” Laurent puffed, “Make that…..seem so easy?”

“Because I’m amazing?” Inigo squatted so he could look up at Laurent. Bouncing on his heels, he sent the mage a teasing grin. “I’ve literally been dancing my whole life, Laurent; you can’t expect to come up to my level after just half an hour of introductory course.”

Laurent felt the blood drain from his face. “We…were only dancing…for half an hour?”

“Yup!” Inigo laughed again before he stood up and spun around in a circle. “You’ll get better the more you practice! That is, if you still want to.”

“I would like to.” Laurent nodded before he stood up from his hunched position. He sent Inigo a soft smile. “I think it would be…. _fun_ to be able to dance with you, Inigo.”

Inigo flushed a little, before he smiled back. “I think it would be, too. As long as you learn how to not step on my foot.”

Laurent flushed as well at Inigo’s jab, but let him get away with it as he knew it was true. He hoped he hadn’t bruised the dancer’s feet after how many times he’d stepped on them. If they had counted, the mage was sure it would’ve been an unbelievably embarrassing number.

After chatting about pointless things a little longer, Laurent and Inigo headed back for their respective tents for the remainder of the night. Despite his exhaustion and the aching in his legs, Laurent felt a strange energy buzzing through him. Even though he was nowhere near Inigo’s level, as the dancer had _kindly_ pointed out, Laurent still felt the same kind of exhilaration gripping him that he felt just watching. If he felt that way just learning introductory dance moves, he couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to be able to do something like what Inigo did.

As Laurent made it to his tent and sat down at his desk to write, he couldn’t keep a smile off his face.

He was starting to like this idea of fun.

 

\--

 

Inigo’s confidence was rising. And really, maybe he should have been wary about that fact, but it really put him on cloud nine. He’d always enjoyed dancing before, but now that he was getting used to the audience part of dancing he felt he was loving it even more. He could feel the time soon approaching where he would bring Olivia to the forest with him and show her everything he’d been secretly working on for years. He could just imagine it: the way her face would turn light pink as she smiled at him with a smile that reached her eyes. She would hug him and say how proud she was…

He couldn’t wait.

Or, at least, that’s what he thought.

That night, as Inigo trekked through the woods to meet Laurent, he thought about what he was going to do. He was going to run through everything once, get Laurent’s final opinion, and then he would go back home, wake Olivia, and bring her back with him to show her.

He was determined to finally do it.

“Laurent, tonight’s going to be special!” He declared as he pushed his way into the clearing. The mage, who’d had his back turned to him, jumped a little as he turned around and pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Special how?”

Inigo strode over to where Laurent was standing. He beamed at him, confidence oozing from his pores. “I’m going to show you my routine, you’re going to give me your final opinion and, if I pass with flying colors, I’m going to bring my mother here and show her!”

“I do not need to see it again. I already know what I will say.” A small smile nestled on Laurent’s face. “You pass with ‘flying colors’.”

Inigo smiled bashfully before he dragged a hand through his hair. “Thanks, Laurent. But let me perform for you once more anyway. A dress rehearsal, of sorts.”

“Very well.” Laurent nodded before he walked over and sat down on his log, for it had become his. “Begin whenever you are ready.”

Inigo nodded back before he focused on steadying his breathing. He couldn’t allow his excitement and nerves to distract him. As soon as he was in the mindset, he began, the steps flowing to him naturally without having to think about it. After all, he’d performed it so many times.

However, something was different this time. Maybe it was a poorly placed leaf or twig that hadn’t been there before. Maybe it was the nerves clamping down on Inigo’s stomach despite his best efforts to ignore them. Or maybe it was that he was overconfident, so sure that after so long he couldn’t possibly make a mistake.

Whatever the reason, Inigo felt an unnatural shift in his body. On one of the harder steps, his foot seemed to collapse from under him and his leg twisted as his body’s momentum threw him over his feet. He landed with a hard thud on his side, all of the wind knocked out of him. As his breath pounded unevenly in his ears, Inigo stared straight ahead of him at the sideways image of the forest. There was a dull ache in his foot, and he was concerned he may have twisted it.

What caused him the most concern, however, was the silence.

Inigo drew in a sharp breath as his confidence seemed to trickle out of his body, replaced by a forceful stream of his insecurities.

He’d made a _mistake._ And Laurent had witnessed it. And though he was immensely grateful he’d convinced himself to show the mage before he showed his mother, who he definitely wasn’t going to show anything to now, he couldn’t stop his heartbeat from accelerating as his blood pounded in his ears.

He waited for the laughter. He waited for the snort that would come out of the mage’s nose before he was doubled over from the force of his laughter. He waited for the laughter that would shatter any confidence he may have had; he waited for the laughter that would convince him to never dance in front of anyone ever again. He waited for the crushing of his chest and the tightness in his eyes as his only dream and desire was mocked. He waited for the laughter that would dash his hopes for good. He waited for the laughter that would show him that men really weren’t made to dance.

He waited for Laurent to reject who he really was, just like everyone else in his life.

However, no laughter came. Instead he heard Laurent’s boots crunching on the ground as he walked over to him. Confused, Inigo held his breath and waited to see what the mage would do.

Eventually he felt an arm on his shoulder.

“Are you quite alright, Inigo? Did you twist your ankle?”

Inigo released his breath slowly. Eventually, not able to handle not knowing what Laurent was thinking, the dancer rolled onto his back. Ignoring the twinge of pain in his shoulder and foot, he looked up at the mage.

He was hovering above him, looking down at him with concern. Inigo searched his face. He searched it so hard he thought his eyes were going to pop out of his sockets. However, no matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t find any trace of mockery or humor in Laurent. There wasn’t anything besides worry for his well-being.

Inigo didn’t expect the realization to hit him as hard as it did. But to know that Laurent wasn’t going to make fun of him for failing so miserably at something so important to him meant the world. It meant that he truly did support him in all of his endeavors, and that one mistake didn’t change that. It made Inigo realize that his mistakes didn’t define him: what mattered was the accomplishments of what he’d already achieved.

Such a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders that he started crying.

Clearly alarmed, Laurent kneeled next to him and began pressing different parts of his body gently with his fingers. “Inigo, please tell me where it hurts. I won’t pretend that I have expertise in medicine, but I at least know basic procedures—”

“No, it’s not that,” Inigo hiccupped as he raised an arm to wipe at his eyes. When he lowered it again, he smiled through his tears at the mage in front of him. “You didn’t laugh.”

Laurent paused for a second before he lightly returned Inigo’s smile. In a strange train of thought, Inigo thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Of course I didn’t laugh, Inigo. All of your hard work cannot go to waste because of one mistake. You’ve demonstrated your dancing so many times that it can only be recognized as a scientific fact: you have a beautiful skill, Inigo. And that is no laughing matter.”

Inigo actually cried harder. He was so happy. He’d never thought in his wildest dreams that anyone would ever say something like that to him. Eventually, when he thought he could speak, he reached out and grabbed Laurent’s hand and said, “You don’t know how much that means to me. I can’t remember the last time someone’s supported me like this.”

Laurent tilted his head a little to the side, but he did not remove his hand. “Do your parents not support you?”

“Why do you think I sneak out here to dance?” Inigo’s gaze hardened and he had to look away from Laurent. His tears had started to dry, but now they were threatening to start up again with the thought of his “family.” He was starting to remember uncomfortably that the last time he’d spoken to his father was when he’d told him he hated him. “My father would kill me if he found me out here.”

“Why?” Laurent squeezed Inigo’s hand, and for a moment it was all he could think about. He couldn’t remember why he’d reached for Laurent’s hand, but now he was glad that he did as he squeezed back.

“Because it’s not _manly_ enough.” And suddenly it was all pouring out of him. He told Laurent about how his father was constantly criticizing him, no matter what he did, how he thoroughly rejected everything that Inigo was. He told him that he wasn’t even allowed to cry, lest he get beaten; he told him that that was why he’d gone out drinking, to drown his pain and sorrow, and then how much more punishment his father had dished on him after finding out about it. He told him about Olivia’s failed attempts at convincing Gregor to change his views, or even at convincing Inigo that it was just his way of showing he cared. He admitted that the only thing he really wanted was his father to like him for who he was.

“That’s why your support of who I am and what I want to do means so much to me, Laurent. It’s all because of you that I have some confidence to dance in front of others,” Inigo finished.

Laurent was silent for a long time. He had never dropped Inigo’s hand or interrupted him during his whole spiel, but nevertheless the dancer was scared of his reaction. He had never laid himself so bare before, not even to his mother, and he was worried what Laurent would think of him now that he knew he wasn’t as tough as he portrayed himself.

“Your father’s missing out,” Laurent finally said. Inigo stared at him.

“What?”

“I said your father’s missing out.” Laurent sent him another small smile that started a strange fluttering in Inigo’s chest as he squeezed his hand. “He doesn’t realize what a truly wonderful son he has.”

Inigo felt himself starting to choke up again as a huge weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. He realized it was the second time in just a couple of minutes. Laughing, he tried to hide the tears now streaming down his face with a smile. “Laurent, stop it. You’re making me blush.”

“Really? I can’t tell from beneath your tears.” Laurent smiled warmly, and Inigo laughed again as he realized he was being teased. The mage had never teased him before.

He squeezed Laurent’s hand again. “Thanks for being here, Laurent.”

Inigo felt a squeeze back.

“I always will be.”

 

\--

 

Laurent never asked Inigo why he’d been crying that first time he’d followed him into the woods. He’d never deemed it appropriate, but to be honest he had completely forgotten about it. Though he was still hesitant to ask, the mage had a pretty good theory of what had happened after Inigo had opened up to him and shared his troubled relationship with his father.

He was surprised that Inigo had such a hard time when it came to his father. The façade he’d put up to hide his pain was good enough to slip past Laurent’s observant gaze and he was honestly impressed by the fact. Not much escaped his eye. And though it saddened him to know that Inigo’s father was so unaccepting and unappreciative of the wonderful son he had, Laurent couldn’t help but feel relieved.

Inigo’s problem with his father mirrored Laurent’s problem with his mother, and the mage was glad to know he wasn’t alone in the matter. It also helped him feel better with their friendship, as he felt that he could understand Inigo and trust him more now that he knew that he could share that kind of information with him.

Now, perhaps, it was time for Laurent to return the favor.

And though he was confident in his friendship with Inigo, Laurent felt cold sweat drip down his spine as he trekked into the woods. In his cloak he had his usual notebook and pen that he used to take notes on Inigo’s dances, but in his hands he held an unedited manuscript of the story he was working on. He was determined to show it to his friend, but if he was honest with himself he would admit that the idea terrified him. His mother had abandoned him because of his stories.

He was scared Inigo would do the same.

Pausing right before the clearing where he always met Inigo, Laurent took a couple of deep breaths. Even Miriel had supported the science that deep breathing could help relax a person in times of stress, and this was as stressful as a time as any.

When he felt he was ready, Laurent stepped out from the trees into the clearing. Inigo was already there, doing some pre-dance warm-ups. He had luckily done nothing more than bruise his ankle when he’d fallen, and Laurent was glad to see that the fall had actually strengthened Inigo’s desire to practice, rather than deflate it.

He hoped Inigo realized how strong he was.

The mage watched him for a few minutes, not alerting him to his presence, trying to fight the tight clamp of doubt that clutched his heart. He couldn’t do this: Inigo would laugh at him, or find his stories farfetched, or even find them disturbing. He would label Laurent a freak and chase him away, forbidding him from ever watching him dance again.

Just the thought of it hurt Laurent so bad that he lost any confidence he might have had.

As he was about to turn away, however, Inigo spotted him and sent him a flashing smile. “Hey, there you are, Laurent! What took you so long?”

“I…” The words died on Laurent’s tongue as he forgot what he was going to say. It was too late to turn back now, though he could feel his composure melting away the longer he stood there.

“Dude, are you okay?” Inigo took a few hesitant steps towards Laurent before he noticed the stack of paper in the mage’s hands. “What’s that?”

Laurent swallowed around the hard lump in his throat. “It’s my writing… I… I wanted you to read it. It would mean a lot to me.”

Inigo closed the remaining distance between them before he took the manuscript gently from Laurent. His eyes scanned the first page before he looked up. “Are you sure? You seemed so against me reading it before.”

Laurent lowered his head, unable to meet Inigo’s gaze. Now was the moment of truth. “To be completely factual, I am terrified of you reading it. I have a fear that as soon as you read it you won’t want to be around me anymore. I realize it’s irrational, but I can’t completely dismiss it after my mother performed that very action.”

“Your mother…?” Inigo’s confusion was evident, and Laurent sighed. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to elaborate, but he refused to run away any longer. Besides, Inigo had opened up about his father; the least Laurent could do was do the same. He forced himself to meet Inigo’s gaze as he continued.

“After I displayed my story to my mother, she closed herself off to my father and I. She refuses to include me in experiments and ignores my father like he no longer exists. She holes up in her room and doesn’t even look at us when we talk to her.” Laurent felt tears well up in his eyes and he had to pause to swallow before he could go on. “It’s not clear that my writing is the main cause for her seclusion, but I can’t find any other evidence to what it could be. She is so disappointed in me that she has given up on our family.”

Laurent had to pause again to wipe tears from his eyes, but he realized he was barely constraining himself. Small sobs were already escaping him and the tears were forming faster than before. Suddenly Inigo pulled him into a hug, and though the mage’s skin crawled from the unexpected touch he accepted the shoulder to cry on.

After he got used to it, the hug was more comforting than any other kind of contact he’d experienced before. He found that his head fit perfectly into the crook between Inigo’s neck and shoulder, even if he had to bend down a little to reach it, and that Inigo’s hand rubbing small circles into his back was more comforting than anything else he’d ever felt. He found his tears drying in no time and, even when he had finished crying, he found it hard to leave Inigo’s warm embrace.

Eventually, however, he pulled away. “Please excuse that sorry display of emotion.”

“Don’t ever apologize for crying, Laurent,” Inigo murmured gently but, when Laurent looked at him, his gaze was burning with an unknown passion. “Letting it out is the only way to make yourself feel better. Trust me, I know; I’m a crybaby.”

“Thank you, Inigo.” Laurent smiled a little at Inigo’s jab before he returned to the subject at hand. “Even though it terrifies me, I want you to read it. You trusted me in a way that you’ve never trusted anyone before, and I want to return the favor. You’re my best friend, Inigo, and I want to connect with you in the way that friends should. So yes, I am sure.”

Inigo hesitated a moment longer, searching Laurent’s face, before he nodded and, without another word, walked over to the log that the mage always sat at. He plopped down and immediately began to read.

After a moment of awkward hovering, Laurent sat on the opposite side of the log and turned away from Inigo. He couldn’t bear watching the dancer read it: it made it ten times worse than just knowing he was reading it. So Laurent distracted himself by studying his notes of Inigo in his notebook and doodling when he got too antsy to think straight.

An eternity seemed to pass before Inigo finished reading. When he did, he set the manuscript down with a heavy sigh and looked up at the sky. Laurent watched him over his shoulder, his anxiety increasing. He saw everything from Inigo’s stiff shoulders to the way his foot tapped a rhythm on the ground and could gauge nothing but a bad reaction. His heart sank, even as he felt tiny needles of pain stab his chest.

Then, however, Inigo turned to him with the brightest smile Laurent had ever seen. He was blinded for a moment as the dancer began to talk. “You’re amazing, Laurent! How do you come up with awesome stuff like this?!”

Laurent faltered, not expecting the reaction Inigo gave him. “Uh, I—”

“Like that part where they were in space and they ran into that guy from Mars and there was that epic battle! Totally wicked!” Inigo mimicked the sounds of explosions and threw a couple of fake punches. Laurent just stared at him, astonished. “I could just see everything in my head and it was awesome! I don’t read much, but I really was hooked on what you wrote because it was so good!”

Laurent blushed as Inigo raved, suddenly embarrassed by the amount of praise the dancer was giving. However, the happiness he felt couldn’t be denied; it was like a weight was lifted from his shoulders. He’d been so worried on how Inigo would take his writing, but in the end he’d loved it. He’d supported it, just like Laurent had always wanted someone to.

“Also, was that male dancer modeled after me?” Inigo suddenly asked, sending Laurent a flashing smile. The mage returned a small one.

“Indeed. I only base characters off of people that inspire me.”

Inigo puffed out his chest, even as a blush dusted his cheeks. “Well then, now I have to work twice as hard to live up to such an awesome character!”

Laurent laughed at Inigo’s antics when suddenly the dancer leaned forward, an excited glint in his eyes. “Hey, if you ever publish that everyone will know how amazing male dancers can be! Maybe you and I can defeat the social norm, Laurent! Maybe we can change it so that men can be appreciated as dancers!”

“Maybe we can,” Laurent responded thoughtfully. It had never occurred to him before, but perhaps social norms could be changed in such a method. “A well-selling novel plus a very skilled dancer would make it hard for people to argue that men dancing were distasteful.”

“Yeah, exactly!” Inigo beamed. He looked off into the distance, his smile still strong on his face. “Being accepted by society would be like a dream come true…”

Laurent watched him, a small smile on his face. He promised Inigo he would support him in any way he could, but he’d never thought that they could combine their shared dreams to work towards Inigo’s goal. It almost made the dream more special because it meant so much to both of them to see it come true.

It almost made the mage feel like anyone else’s rejection didn’t matter.

“Hey Laurent?” Inigo’s voice snapped Laurent out of his thoughts.

“Yes, Inigo?”

“Do you think we could actually do it? Change the social norms?”

Laurent looked into Inigo’s eyes as the dancer looked back at him. “I think we could do anything if we worked together.”

“Who knew you could be so optimistic,” Inigo teased, his serious demeanor starting to melt away.

“I’m not being optimistic. Just realistic.”

Inigo stared. “Really?”

“Well…” Laurent faltered again as he thought about it more. “Perhaps not. After all, it would be difficult to get anyone to accept our dreams so easily.”

“I guess you’re right,” Inigo sighed, deflating a little. He leaned back on his hands and stared up at the sky. “It would still be pretty amazing, though.”

“It would.”

They elapsed into silence for a few minutes before Inigo once again broke it. “What if we focused on something smaller? Like what if we tried to change the minds of everyone in the Ylissean Guard?”

Laurent nodded. “That could work.”

“And maybe it’d improve our relationships with our parents, too.”

Inigo had said it, but they both stared at each other in shock once the idea reached open air. Laurent had been thinking about it in social terms, but it had never occurred to him that what they were thinking about doing could change the mind of their parents too. Perhaps he’d had it so ingrained that Miriel would never change her beliefs that he’d never realized that it could even be possible to try.

“Maybe it would,” Laurent finally replied, leaning forward a little in excitement.

Fire burned in Inigo’s eyes. “We have to try now.”

“I agree. It would mean the world to me if my mother supported my dreams.”

“Same here with my father.” Inigo had an excited smile on his face and Laurent felt hope rising in his chest. Both of them had suffered from insecurities for so long; it would be amazing if they could actually fix everything. The weight of the task daunted on Laurent, however.

“It won’t be easy,” Laurent warned.

“I know,” Inigo replied, his gaze never changing and his determination never seeming to waver. “But we don’t have anything to lose. So are we doing this?”

Laurent took a deep breath. “I think we are.”

“Great! Let’s pinky swear on it.” Inigo smiled widely and held out his hand, his pinky extended.

Laurent just stared at Inigo’s hand, his confusion probably evident. “Pinky what?”

“Pinky swear,” Inigo repeated, a different type of grin itching onto his face. It was the kind of expression that he always wore when he was teasing Laurent about not knowing something all of the other children knew. The mage felt his ear tips reddening. “It’s a way to make a promise between friends.”

“I see,” Laurent said, even though he didn’t really. He examined Inigo’s hand. “How does it work?”

“It’s really simple. Here, hold out your pinky.”

Laurent did as he was told and held out his pinky. Inigo grabbed his pinky with his pinky and kept them linked together for a moment. The feeling was strange to Laurent, but not unpleasant, though he wasn’t sure how such a weird gesture could possibly symbolize any kind of eternal promise.

“We’re going to make our dreams come true, and in the process improve our relationship with our parents,” Inigo said, his earlier excitement evident in his voice. “I swear it.”

The mage tilted his head a little to the side. “It seems rather odd that this symbolizes an unbreakable promise. If someone came along and forced our two pinkies apart it would be quite easy.”

“Oh, shut up, Laurent,” Inigo snapped, though he wasn’t angry. “That’s just how it is, okay?”

Laurent just shrugged and squeezed Inigo’s pinky. “Fine, fine, I swear as well. Though this still seems rather silly to me. Is there any scientific evidence that this method keeps promises forever?”

“I’m done with you,” Inigo sighed in exasperation, throwing Laurent’s hand down. However, when the mage looked up at him, Inigo was smiling. “How do you keep promises, then?”

“I don’t. I don’t make promises regularly.”

“Then shut up and go along with it,” Inigo exclaimed loudly before he leaned back on his hands again. He sent Laurent a teasing smirk. “Maybe this promise will provide all of the evidence you need.”

Laurent smiled. “Maybe it will.”

They elapsed into silence again, and Laurent fell into his thoughts. The task they faced was enormous, and it would take time, but he found he was looking forward to it. Maybe he was learning how to be optimistic, but he really did think that he and Inigo would be a powerful force to reckon with. After all, they had years of pain and insecurities to fuel their determination. Not only that, but they understood each other, better than any other human being did. They would work together well.

Laurent smiled again as he looked at Inigo spacing out.

It would be nice to be accepted.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heey look I finally updated! XD  
> God, sorry it took me forever, but I hope the chapter was worth the wait! I'm so happy by how many people have checked out this fic and gave it a chance - you guys rock ^-^   
> Anywho, I hope you guys enjoy the chapter! THE PARENTS RETURN!!!   
> Thanks for reading~

Inigo hadn’t talked to his father for a couple of days. It was weird, because the mercenary was usually breathing down his neck at every turn; now the only person he saw on a daily basis was Laurent.

And while he didn’t particularly _mind_ that, it left him feeling disgruntled. He knew the reason his father was avoiding him was because he’d said he’d hated him. It made Inigo feel even worse because he knew it wasn’t true.

He hated the way his father treated him, hated the suffocating strictness that was reserved just for him, but he didn’t hate his father himself. He’d loved sitting around the campfire as a child and listening to his father telling stories of his past. He thought Gregor was the bravest and strongest person he’d met (well, except for maybe Lucina). He loved his father’s hearty laugh and his sense of humor, though he knew he’d love it even more if it was ever directed towards him.

Inigo thought his father would be a really cool person to hang out with if only he was allowed to.

He couldn’t remember a single time Gregor had done anything fatherly with him. He had never gone horseback riding with him (though he wasn’t sure Gregor even knew _how_ to ride a horse), he’d never taken him fishing, he’d never taught him to cook or hunt. He never spent any quality time with him at all. Inigo knew practically nothing about his father because of it, and he knew it worked in reverse as well.

Gregor had put up impenetrable walls between them, and Inigo had no idea how to begin to get over them or why they’d even been put up in the first place. His father treated him as a student, rather than a son, and the distance hurt Inigo so badly he still cried at night over it.

In reality, Inigo believed Gregor was the one that hated him, even though he had no idea what he’d done wrong. Though, based on how much his father criticized him, Inigo guessed it was his very personality.

He couldn’t help but sometimes wonder if his father would’ve loved him more if he’d been born a girl.

Inigo has had the thought more than once. He had girlish tastes and tendencies sometimes, and they were among the first things that Gregor snapped down on when he could. His father wouldn’t criticize those things if he was actually female. But, more than that, being a girl would’ve allowed him the freedom to follow through with his biggest dream: dancing. If he was born a girl, everyone would applaud his dreams and Gregor would’ve encouraged Olivia’s teaching, rather than forbidden it. He wouldn’t have had to deal with people looking down on him when they found out he wanted to be a dancer; he wouldn’t have had to deal with hiding his inner personality to almost everyone around him; he wouldn’t have had to deal with pretending to like fighting; he wouldn’t have had to deal with hating himself and criticizing his girly self.

As a boy, he was trapped. As a girl, he was free.

Though he supposed he wouldn’t have met Laurent if he wasn’t dancing alone in the woods somewhere, so perhaps it wasn’t all bad. The mage was there for him, and Inigo was the same way, so life wasn’t all bad. There was someone who supported him, despite the fact that he was a boy and different from every other member of his gender.

The thought of his friend released the constriction in Inigo’s chest and he took a deep breath as he successfully held back the tears that had threatened to fall.

Laurent really was the best person he ever could’ve met. Inigo only wished he’d known him from the beginning; maybe both of them would’ve been able to save themselves from growing up with insecurities.

Not that the problem of his father would ever go away.

Inigo sighed wearily as he hopped off his bed, heading out of his tent to go dance for Laurent. He’d been depressed earlier, but as he stepped outside he felt happiness start to trickle into his chest. He always looked forward to seeing the mage – he even thought he enjoyed his company more than anyone else’s.

Maybe it was because Inigo didn’t have to hide anything around Laurent. Maybe because around Laurent he could be who he was and still be a boy.

A smile tugged Inigo’s lips for a brief second as he thought about Laurent; it quickly faded when he smacked right into his father.

“Inigo?” Gregor’s strong accent made Inigo flinch and he looked down at his feet, finding himself unable to meet his father’s eyes. He didn’t want to see the anger that he knew would be there. “What you doing going out late?”

“Just had to pee…” Inigo mumbled.

He could almost _feel_ Gregor’s eyes narrow. “You better not going to drink.”

“I’m not, father.” Inigo clenched his teeth as he finally met his father’s angry gaze, his own eyes blazing with anger. “Stop pretending you know everything about me.”

Gregor flinched at the words, but didn’t back down. “I know that going drinking when young very stupid.”

“Well I’m not going drinking!” Inigo exploded. He could feel tears threatening to fall down his face. “And honestly I don’t know why you care at all – it’s not like you care about anything else I do! You don’t care _why_ I deem it necessary to go drinking; you don’t care that you make me absolutely _miserable_ ; you probably wouldn’t even care if I disappeared one day and never came back!”

Inigo honestly hadn’t expected the slap to his cheek, though maybe he should’ve. His head snapped to the side from the force of it, and he stared in disbelief at a point on the ground. The sting in his cheek was fierce; Gregor had never slapped him that hard before.

“How dare you speak to me this way.” Gregor’s voice trembled with barely controlled anger. He pointed a finger in the direction of his tent. “Get back in tent. If I be catching you anywhere but mess hall or training circle for next week, you regret it.”

Inigo gaped at his father, even as he felt anger and raw sadness welling up in his chest. His father was acting like he was still a teenager; his father was once again imposing himself on a life that he knew nothing about. The dancer began to shake from the force of his anger; his father was threatening him and punishing him for something he wasn’t even doing. How was that fair? And preventing him from seeing Laurent for a _week?_ Inigo shuddered just thinking about it.

How dare his father try to kill the only happiness and freedom he had in his life.

“Fuck you, dad,” Inigo spat before he turned around to head back into his tent so his father wouldn’t see his tears.

He probably deserved the slap to the back of his head.

 

\--

 

Laurent sat alone in the clearing and wondered why he felt so betrayed.

The first night Inigo hadn’t shown up, the mage had assumed that he’d fallen asleep somewhere before he’d gotten up to leave for the night. It wouldn’t have been unusual or the first time; there were many instances when Laurent would go to an empty clearing and sit writing before heading home without seeing Inigo. The dancer would always show up again the next night, apologizing profusely for falling asleep. Laurent had always smiled, finding Inigo’s flustered state strangely endearing.

This was the first time, however, that Inigo had been gone for more than one night.

In his brain, the part that dictated logical approaches to every problem, Laurent recognized that there were many reasons unrelated to himself that could account for Inigo’s disappearance. He could’ve, for example, broken his leg and was unable to move outside of his tent; and since Laurent never went to his tent, he would have no way of communicating that he had injured himself. Or perhaps he had been asked by Chrom to assist on some mission and had had to leave in such a hurry that he’d had absolutely no time to contact Laurent and tell him.

They were all plausible, and yet the mage’s heart didn’t buy it. Somewhere deep within himself, underneath the logic and reason, Laurent worried that Inigo had stopped coming because he was tired of him. The mage had been so socially awkward that the dancer became disgusted with him and was trying to give him the hint that he didn’t want to see him ever again. Or maybe he was so bored by Laurent’s scientific approach to everything, turned off like everyone else the mage had ever met, that he decided dancing for him wasn’t worth it anymore. Maybe he’d come to despise Laurent for insisting on coming every night; maybe he wanted to be alone to practice.

The thoughts hurt so badly that Laurent ultimately had no idea how to deal with them.

After the fourth night in a row that Inigo failed to show himself, Laurent slumped back to his tent with a weight on his shoulders and an ache in his chest.

As he passed his mother’s tent, however, he paused. Her candle was still burning, which wasn’t a surprise for the mage since he had inherited his night-owlness from her, and he contemplated going in to talk her. He made it a habit to visit her once a day, just to see if anything had changed (which it never did, but one could hope), but he’d neglected to that day because of the distraction of the whole Inigo dilemma.

Laurent wasn’t really in the mood to deal with his mother, but he decided he better. After all, what if this was the one day Miriel changed her mind? Her acknowledgement of him would definitely take his mind off Inigo.

Taking a deep breath, Laurent walked over to the tent and lifted the flap. “…Mother?”

There was no response; really, Laurent should’ve turned around and walked out right then. However, something compelled him to disregard his gut feeling and he stepped warily into the tent.

His mother was hunched over her desk, scribbling fiercely in her notebook as she watched a bubbling concoction unwaveringly. It appeared she was working some kind of chemistry experiment, a subject Laurent had always found interesting. He cleared his throat, but Miriel didn’t even look up.

The mage plowed forward anyway. “What are you working on, Mother?”

“I’m observing the different rates at which certain acids dissolve hard metals, such as iron,” Miriel responded blandly, almost uninterestedly, even though Laurent knew quite the opposite was true.

Encouraged by the actual response, Laurent decided to take a risk. “Do you need assistance?”

“No.” The response was so quick it made the mage flinch. Miriel…hadn’t even bothered to consider the idea.

Feeling his hope deflating and fading away, Laurent decided to try one last tactic to entice his mother. “I recently have been wondering if the composition and size of human muscles affect our ability to perform certain movements, and how these differ between individuals, and was considering—”

“Unless you’re planning to dissect human beings, I doubt you’ll get very far,” Miriel interrupted before she glanced up at him, once. “But if you’re willing, go ahead. You have plenty of resources within your own tent.”

That was a dismissal if Laurent had ever heard one. As the mage stood there, astonished by his mother’s complete lack of interest, he tried to control the waves of emotion threatening to break out. He could barely pick out sadness, anger, and disappointment in the swirling mass that ached in his chest and he took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself.

However, when this failed, Laurent silently excused himself, not wanting to lose control of himself in front of his mother.

Not that she would care either way.

Laurent walked quickly back to his tent, trying to shake some of the tension that was causing his hands to quiver, but he found it hardly helped. When he entered the privacy of his own tent, he swatted a hand out and knocked all of the papers and candles off his desk. The crash was immensely satisfying, and Laurent continued by knocking everything that was elevated onto the ground. Eventually he reached for his field notebook, flipping to the pages of Inigo’s dance he’d so painstakingly taken. Ripping them out of the book one by one, imitating the feeling in his heart, Laurent threw the pages up in the air before smacking the book onto the ground and stomping on it.

He was unsure for how long he rampaged, for his brain had conked out a long time ago and he was fueled only by his overwhelming emotions. When he eventually regained consciousness, he was surprised by how drained he felt.

Panting heavily, observing the destruction his fit had caused, Laurent crouched on the ground, cradling himself as he tried his best not to shake.

Why did everyone hate him? Why was he so unable to form lasting friendships? Was the fact that he was unable to comprehend much of human emotion cause for making people think he wasn’t worth the effort?

Tears slid down his cheeks, causing Laurent to blink in slight surprise. He hadn’t cried since the first time his mother had shut herself off to him, which was going on a couple of years now. It had been so long since he was this _miserable_. For a moment, he wished that Inigo was with him, before he remembered with sharp bitterness and sadness that Inigo had become another one of the individuals who thought he wasn’t worth the effort.

Where had he gone wrong? Just last week Inigo had been laughing at him and his utter lack of ability to dance. What could have possibly changed in such a short amount of time?

As sobs racked through his body, Laurent tried to process why Inigo’s betrayal hurt just as much as Miriel’s. They hadn’t been friends for long, but perhaps Laurent had assumed that after bearing their hearts open to each other that they had become close like no other had. It had meant a lot to him, but apparently it hadn’t meant anything to Inigo.

What a _fool_ he’d been. Inigo had probably lied to him about not telling anyone about his problems before; Laurent was probably just a convenient outlet that the dancer discarded when he’d used it up.

The pain that stabbed Laurent’s heart then was unbearable. What was _wrong_ with him? How could he have been so blind to the truth?

Once again, the mage was reminded of his mother’s words: _Emotions only cloud logical thinking._

Well, if that was the case, then Laurent decided he would never feel emotion again. He would never again allow someone to get close to his heart, like Inigo had, and would further distance himself from people like he’d always done. At one time he’d been lonely, and had despised his mother from keeping him isolated, but now he realized she had been protecting him; if he didn’t get emotionally involved with people, he would never feel pain. He would never have to deal with betrayal and people’s tendency to lie.

Never again would he feel so heartbroken.

However, that would be easier said than done. Though his tears were starting to dry, the pain was still poignant in Laurent’s chest.

After all, even though he resolved to not care, it was hard to ignore the fact that truly no one cared about him.

 

\--

 

Inigo was absolutely miserable.

Not being able to see Laurent or dance took a larger toll on him than he thought was possible; he went about his day with a constant raincloud over his head. He could feel his muscles softening from lack of practice and there seemed to be a constant, painful tightness in his chest. He couldn’t stand not having a break from his charade; day after day he was forced to pretend he was someone else without any intervals, and the pressure was so heavy on him that he cried himself to sleep every night.

Not only that, but he _missed_ Laurent. He missed his stupidly large hat and his stubborn insistence on observing Inigo and taking such dedicated notes. He missed teaching that large buffoon to dance and missed the small smile that would grace his lips every time Inigo did something stupid. He missed the way Laurent laughed, the way he watched Inigo’s every move, the way he was able to support him and his dream without saying a word.

With each passing moment, his misery and bitter hatred for his father only grew.

Every day, Inigo tried to sneak out and tell Laurent what his father had done, but he could never get far without Gregor catching him. The dancer hoped to run into him when he was allowed to go to the dining hall or the training area, but just as always he was never able to see Laurent during the day. Their encounters had only been nightly, and that apparently wasn’t going to change.

Inigo’s desperation rose with each day and he found himself antsy and irritable. He _needed_ to dance, and he _needed_ to see Laurent. If he didn’t soon, he felt he was going to explode.

And, finally, his ban was lifted.

The first night Gregor released Inigo to his freedom, the dancer practically ran for the woods. As he ran, his heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest; _finally_ he’d be able to see Laurent again, could apologize for being gone for so long, could _dance…_ He’d also have to apologize for being out of shape, which hopefully wouldn’t mess up the notes the mage had been taking, but at least Inigo wasn’t afraid of making a mistake in front of Laurent anymore.

Panting from running as fast as he could, Inigo crashed into the clearing and whirled around, looking for a familiar hat and garb.

He was absolutely devastated to see Laurent wasn’t there. Had he been gone for too long? Or was he just early, and the mage hadn’t yet left his tent? Yeah, that was it, Inigo shouldn’t worry so much. Instead he could take the time to warm-up so he wasn’t absolutely awful in front of Laurent.

The more Inigo worked on his dance, however, and the more Laurent refused to show himself, the dancer became more and more discouraged. Had the mage given up on him? Had he decided that Inigo wasn’t worth waiting for?

Inigo was surprised by how heavy that thought rested in his chest. Laurent had become a really important person to him. He couldn’t stand it if the mage didn’t care about him anymore, if he didn’t want to support him anymore, because what would he have left? He would never have the confidence to show his dance to Olivia without Laurent backing him up, and he would lose the only friend who really knew who he was. Yeah he had other friends, but they weren’t close like Laurent was; none of them knew what the mage knew, cared like the mage did. Or used to care.

Feeling tears starting to well up in his eyes, Inigo took a shaky breath as he tried to figure out what he should do. Well, the obvious thing would be to go talk to Laurent; after all, the whole thing could be a huge misunderstanding that Inigo simply needed to clear up.

He hoped that’s all it was.

Making his way back through the woods, Inigo was surprised at how nervous he was. He’d been to the mage’s tent millions of times, had literally opened up his heart and shared all of his deepest secrets with Laurent, and he was nervous about going to talk to him after a week of being apart? That was absolutely ridiculous; he hoped their relationship meant as much as it did even when they were separated.

Finally reaching Laurent’s tent, Inigo hesitated outside for a moment. He was suddenly struck with déjà vu; this was exactly like when he’d taken drunk refuge what seemed like years ago.

Hopefully the visit didn’t go as badly as that one did.

“Hey, Laurent?” Inigo called, going to lift the flap. “Are you decent?”

Deciding not to wait for an answer, as he was suddenly afraid of being pushed away, Inigo forced his way in. Laurent was sitting exactly where Inigo could’ve guessed: at his desk, writing. When the dancer pushed himself in, the mage looked up at him in shock.

“I-Inigo?!” Laurent sounded surprised but then, suddenly, his eyes took on a hard look Inigo had never seen before. “…What do you want?”

“What do I want…?” Inigo asked, confused. He’d never needed a reason to visit Laurent before. “I want to apologize for disappearing for a week – my dad caught me when I was going out to meet you, and he banned me from going out for a week because—”

“Do you say that to everyone?” Laurent interrupted coldly.

Inigo just gaped at him in shock. “Laurent, what the hell?! Who is everyone? And why would I make up excuses for not—?”

“If you don’t want my company, you can just say so,” Laurent spat, turning away from Inigo and focusing on his writing again.

Inigo stared, his shock reaching unbelievable levels. Where the hell was all of this coming from?! What had made Laurent think he didn’t want to hang out with him anymore?! Hadn’t their relationship shown that Inigo _needed_ Laurent’s company; hadn’t Inigo shown that he really cared about and enjoyed being with the mage?

…Had he ever told Laurent any of that?

“Laurent, _of course_ I want your company; you’re really important to me, and—”

“Am I?” Laurent hissed, finally turning to face Inigo again. The dancer was unsettled by the raw anger and hurt shining in his eyes. “Or do you just care about what I entitle? I am the physical body of the support you need for your dream; I know you care about that. But that’s not me – I believe, Inigo, that you only appreciate me for what I do for you. I don’t think you care about me at all.”

Inigo’s mouth flapped uselessly. What Laurent was saying wasn’t true at all…and yet guilt struck the dancer. What if that _was_ what he was doing, unconsciously? Hadn’t he always said that he liked Laurent because he could be himself around him? He liked Laurent because the mage supported him and made him feel good about himself.

What if he’d been leading Laurent on this entire time?

Swallowing, Inigo tried not to be sick. He was disgusted at how selfish he was; when had he ever helped Laurent? When had he ever returned the favors that the mage had given him?

“Laurent, it’s true that I appreciate all of the support you’ve given me…but that’s not the only thing!” Inigo shouted and, with each word, the unease left him; after all, he knew every word leaving his mouth was the truth. “You are the one thing enjoyable in my life, Laurent. You saw me that first night – I came out here to dance when I was crying my eyes out. But when I come to the woods now, with the knowledge that you’ll be there waiting for me, I come with a smile on my face. I enjoy your company more than anyone else’s. When I was cooped up in my tent this last week, I was absolutely miserable because I couldn’t see you. You make me laugh, you make me smile, you make me _enjoy_ life Laurent!

Inigo swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. “So don’t ever again say I don’t care about you, because I do. I care that you’re hurting as much as I am when it comes to your own family, and I want to help you. I want to be there for you like you’ve been for me. I care what you say, I care what you think, I care about your opinion more than anyone else’s. Maybe I’ve been a shitty friend until now, even though I promised to teach you, but I’ve always cared about you, Laurent.”

The transcending silence was unbearable for Inigo. Laurent was staring at him with his mouth open, apparently frozen in shock. Inigo was breathing heavily, and it sounded loud in his ears; if Laurent didn’t say something soon he felt like he was going to explode into a fit of sobbing and hysterics.

“I-Inigo, I…” Laurent stood up and, surprisingly, pulled Inigo into a hug. The dancer loved the feeling, though he was shocked at first, and he smiled a little in pride for his friend; even just a few weeks ago, the mage wouldn’t have instigated physical contact like that. “I am ashamed of what I have said and thought. I am ashamed that I trusted so little in our friendship that I made up scenarios that you would never put me through. I’m sorry that I didn’t trust you, Inigo. You are my dearest friend, and I’ve already failed one of your lessons in friendship; friends trust in each other. Please forgive me.”

Inigo grinned, despite himself, and wrapped his arms around Laurent’s shoulders in return. He was so happy his heart ached in his chest. “I forgive you, Laurent. I understand what it must’ve felt like for me to suddenly disappear on you like that; if that was me in your situation, I probably would’ve cried my eyes out!”

Laurent snorted, only making Inigo grin harder. “I’m sure you were crying anyway.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Inigo laughed, and the effect was astounding; the tension seemed to leave his body and he felt like he was melting into Laurent’s arms. He could feel Laurent’s smile against the top of his head, and he couldn’t help but think nothing could get him down in that moment.

When they pulled apart, Inigo lightly punched Laurent in the arm. “And make sure you rely on me in the future, okay? You’re always welcome in my tent.”

“I will make sure to do that.” Laurent smiled at him. “After all, we’re going to change the social norms together, correct?”

“Of course we are!” Inigo grinned.

The dancer didn’t return to his tent that night. Usually when that happened it was because he went drinking; but not that night. That night Inigo spent time with Laurent, chatting with him, catching up with the week’s past events, and reading the newest editions to the mage’s manuscript. He listened attentively to Laurent talking about what had happened with his mother and laughed when the mage told a story about how he’d been talking to his father and Chrom, happening to walk by, had thought Laurent was talking to himself.

Eventually Inigo fell asleep lying in Laurent’s bed again, and he found that as he dozed off he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

He hadn’t been this happy in years.

 

\--

 

“Father, I made a friend,” Laurent said suddenly when he was sitting with Kellam around the campfire. Everyone else had left already, but father and son made it a habit to stay long after just talking; after all, it was awkward for Laurent to talk to his father when no one else could tell he was talking to someone, and Olivia was often dancing, so they didn’t want to be rude by talking over her.

Kellam startled, turning to look at Laurent with a grin on his face. “Hey, Laurent, that’s great! Who is it?”

“Inigo.”

“…Oh.” Laurent looked up at that, seeing an uncertain look on his father’s face. The mage’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Is there a problem?”

“Well, not really, it’s just…” Kellam hesitated for a moment. Laurent just sat looking at him, patiently waiting for his father to find his words. “…He has an… _odd_ reputation.”

Laurent sighed. “I assume you mean his skirt-chasing tendencies and lack of concern for anything.”

“Well yeah…” Kellam paused again, but for a shorter amount of time. “How did you even meet him?”

“Father, I just want you to know that he’s nothing like that,” Laurent said defensively, ignoring Kellam’s question. He couldn’t truthfully answer it without revealing Inigo’s secret, which he refused to do. Inigo would reveal it himself, when he was ready.

Laurent could feel his father’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up from where he’d turned to his notebook. He just knew that Kellam was wondering why he wasn’t telling him how they met, but he thankfully didn’t push the subject. “Well, I’m still glad. It’s important to have friends.”

“Even if your parents disapprove of them,” Laurent said stiffly, then immediately regretted it when he saw his father’s hurt expression.

“I don’t disapprove…well, at least not anymore,” Kellam turned to face Laurent fully before he continued, “I should know better than anyone that you can’t judge people by their cover, and I’m glad you see the good sides of him. But most importantly, Laurent, I’m glad you have someone to support you; I wish you’d been able to have that growing up, and I’m sorry I wasn’t a good enough father for you.”

Laurent’s eyes widened slightly. “Father, you were perfectly fine; after all, it’s impossible for either of us to deny Mother.”

The mention of Miriel put a quick damper on their conversation. Kellam took a shaky breath, and Laurent once more avoided his gaze; he shouldn’t have brought up his mother. It was a sensitive subject even when they weren’t talking about it.

Laurent decided to quickly change it. “What do you think of Inigo’s father?”

“Gregor?” Kellam tilted his head, seemingly relieved to change the subject. “I’ve never really talked to him…because I’m not even sure if he can see me…but he seems kind. He’s loud, but he’s always offering to help out in the mess hall and causing laughter all around the camp. And boy is he a fearsome fighter.”

“That is what I observed as well,” Laurent said thoughtfully as he returned to his sketches. Since he’d ripped out all of his pages on Inigo’s dancing, he was working on recreating them from memory.

“Why do you ask?”

Laurent hesitated. It wasn’t his place to disclose the interworking of Inigo’s family, but he also realized that it was just his father. Kellam was the last person to gossip and spread rumors, and most people couldn’t hear him even if he did. Besides, it had been bothering the mage for a while, so perhaps it was good to have a second opinion.

“He is…incredibly tough on Inigo. The stories that I hear from Inigo about him are so contrast to what I’ve always observed that it’s hard for me to grasp it.”

Kellam hummed thoughtfully. “No chance that Inigo’s just lying?”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Laurent shook his head, even as guilt pricked him; he had doubted Inigo before, but he promised himself he wouldn’t again. “And…you haven’t seen him like I have.”

“Well that certainly is strange,” Kellam said before pausing for a moment. “My guess, as a fellow father, is that Gregor doesn’t want Inigo to make the mistakes that he made as a child.”

“That could cause him to be unnecessarily strict,” Laurent admitted, nodding his head. It would certainly explain the behavior that the mage had heard about from Inigo contrasting against the evidence he’d collected himself from what he knew as an outsider. Sighing, Laurent closed his notebook and stared into the campfire. “You’d think he’d realize how hard it is for Inigo, though.”

“Sometimes love is blind,” Kellam said before he suddenly patted Laurent roughly on the back, causing the mage to almost fall over. “You really care about Inigo, huh?”

Laurent gaped at his father, shocked. How had Kellam picked up on that? Was it from something the mage was doing, yet another human tendency that he failed to pick up on? Eventually gathering his thoughts, Laurent cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yes. He does mean a lot to me.”

Kellam just grinned at him, though the mage could figure out no fathomable reason why he would. “I’m glad, Laurent. I really am.”

Raising an eyebrow at his father, Laurent deemed it appropriate not to respond and instead turned back to the fire. He felt lighter talking to his father about Inigo, and was relieved to not need to keep it a secret anymore. There had never really been a need to, but for some reason Laurent had always felt like it was taboo to talk about his secret night outings with Inigo until now.

A small smile on his face, Laurent relaxed in the prevailing silence as they spent the rest of the evening simply enjoying each other’s company.

 

\--

 

Inigo had been an “adult” for a year now, but it was still weird for him that he didn’t see his mother constantly.

Though he and his father were in constant struggle, Inigo was incredibly close to Olivia. She had always been there to raise him and support him through everything in his life, and Inigo knew he would never have gotten through everything he had if his mother hadn’t been there for him. She was kind, she was sweet, she was funny. Every night when he was a kid she would tell stories to him, outrageous fantasies that captivated Inigo and made him fall asleep happy with a smile on his face.

And, of course, she was the one who taught him how to dance.

She had always been there, and though sometimes they made each other so embarrassed and bashful that they couldn’t talk to each other for a couple of hours, Inigo had enjoyed every moment he spent in her presence.

Now that he didn’t see her on a daily basis, Inigo was really starting to miss her and the happiness she brought with her.

The day after Inigo had slept over in Laurent’s tent, the dancer decided to go see his mother. He kept up a habit of visiting her every other day when he could, but his father’s ban and the whole situation with Laurent had made it impossible for him to even _think_ about Olivia. Knowing her, she was probably freaking out about where he could possibly be, unless Gregor had told her about his ban, and Inigo was missing her, so he figured he might as well take care of both matters in one visit.

“Mom?” Inigo called as he half opened the flap to his parents’ tent. To his surprise, she was actually there, humming to herself as she folded clothes and put fresh blankets down. At Inigo’s voice, she jumped so hard the shirt she’d been holding fell out of her hands and she spun around at a speed that could only be accomplished by a dancer.

“Inigo?!” Olivia just about screamed and, before Inigo could wonder why his mother seemed so surprised, ran over and wrapped him in her arms. “Oh, it’s so good to see you! I’d…I’d heard that Gregor had confined you to your tent and… Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, Inigo! If I’d known sooner I would’ve tried to put a stop to it! What a silly thing for Gregor to do…!”

“Mom, it’s okay,” Inigo interrupted, even though it really wasn’t, as he tried vainly to struggle out of his mother’s death grip. “Um, I’m, uh, kind of having trouble breathing here.”

“Oh! Sorry!” Olivia squeaked as she immediately released Inigo and took a step back, a dark blush on her cheeks.

Looking at her being embarrassed made Inigo embarrassed and he looked down at his feet as he tried to hide his own blush. “So how are you?”

“I’m fine, but…” Inigo looked up to see his mother sending him a sad smile. “I’m more concerned about you. Are you doing okay? It’s probably not easy living on your own, at least it wasn’t for me, and I know it probably feels like you can’t ever come see me… But you can; I’ll never turn you away. And…if you are going to go drinking, make sure you’re safe okay?”

“I’m…getting there. It was hard at first, but I’m doing better.” Inigo frowned. “But I haven’t gone drinking for months now. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“If you weren’t drinking, then where were you going?” Olivia tilted her head to the side, obviously confused. “Gregor said you were sneaking out of your tent in the middle of the night…”

Inigo flinched. Well he’d really backed himself into a hole now…what was he supposed to tell his mother?! There was _no way_ he could tell her that he’d been secretly dancing in the woods for years…especially when he was dancing for someone, making it impossible to use the ‘I was too embarrassed to show anyone’ excuse that had saved his butt millions of times before.

“Uh…” Inigo stalled, realizing he’d been quiet for too long. “I was going out to chat up the ladies! You know me, haha!”

“Inigo,” Olivia reprimanded, sending him that look that told him she knew he was lying, “We both know that there’s literally nothing out there in the middle of night but Risen.”

_Yeah, I know that,_ Inigo thought, remembering the time he’d almost gotten attacked. With a slight touch of nostalgia, the dancer also remembered that was the first time he’d found out Laurent had been watching him. “Well, uh…”

A smile itched onto Olivia’s face. “Have you been dancing?”

“WHAT?!” Inigo screamed, taken aback by his mother’s spot on guess, before he quickly controlled himself. “I mean, o-of course not, that’s not—”

“I’m so happy!” Olivia gushed, completely ignoring her son. “I was worried Gregor really had squashed your interest in dancing, but I’m so happy that you’re keeping it up! You have to show me!”

“NO!” Inigo blushed darkly as he slowly backed away from his mother, his legs itching to run away. “I-I could never! Do you know how mortifying that would be?!”

“Yes, but we’re family, Inigo!” Olivia took a step forward, matching every step Inigo took back, until she was nearly cornering him against the wall of the tent. “We danced just fine together when you were first learning!”

“But that was different! That was before…” He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence as painful memories surfaced.

Olivia’s eyes softened. “I promise Gregor won’t find out. It’ll just be me. Please?”

Inigo seriously considered it. He _had_ wanted to show his dance to Olivia for a long time now, and he was slowly overcoming his stage fright, but each time he thought about it his chest squeezed tightly with nerves. His mother was just _so good._ There was no way he could ever hope to come up to her level, especially when he’d been self-taught for the most part. He was terrified his mother would be disappointed with his lack of skill. Yeah, he knew what Laurent thought, and it meant a lot to him, but Laurent wasn’t a _dancer_ – he didn’t know what it was supposed to be like.

Olivia did, and even if she didn’t mean to, it would be hard not to judge him.

“I-I…have to practice more!” Inigo shouted before he did turn around and run out of the tent, his cheeks flushed and his heart pounding in embarrassment.

He didn’t even turn around as his mother shouted his name after him.

 

\--

 

Laurent was paying more strict attention to Inigo than he ever had since he’d first begun watching, which was probably why he didn’t notice the other presence lingering in the shadows as Inigo danced.

Since he had ripped out all of his pages on Inigo’s dance, he had to pay more attention than ever before to recreate them. He was actually kind of proud of how much he remembered, when he’d been working on them before, but it was always good to see it himself and retake in the details.

One thing that surprised him was that he was still completely blown away by Inigo’s performance. Despite the fact that he’d seen the dance millions of times, Inigo still managed to make it breathtaking; Laurent’s heart continued to pound hard in his chest and it seemed like the entire world stopped moving when Inigo did. Perhaps it was also because Laurent hadn’t seen it for a week, but this time especially seemed absolutely beautiful.

Laurent wasn’t sure for how long he would’ve sat there, stunned, if a leaf hadn’t crunched behind him.

Flinching, the mage quickly turned around, pulling out his Arcwind tome. Risen hadn’t attacked them since the first time Laurent had revealed himself to Inigo, but he always brought at least one tome with him just in case. After all, Inigo had stated that he hated bringing weapons to his dance sessions, which meant it was up to the mage to protect them if anything were to attack them (it was also for that reason that Laurent had invested in upgrading his wind magic).

However, what Laurent faced was not a Risen but Olivia.

“O-Olivia?” Laurent stuttered, confused, as he lowered his tome.

“O-Oh! I, um, was just t-taking a walk!” Olivia stuttered around, her face coated in a dark blush. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Laurent couldn’t help but think how much Inigo really took after his mother.

“M-MOTHER?!” Inigo screamed from behind Laurent and, when the mage turned around, he was amused by the identical blush on the dancer’s face. “H-how…?! How long have you been there?!”

“Inigo…” Olivia’s face was beaming as she stepped out of the forest and walked towards her son. “I’m so proud of you!”

The male dancer looked absolutely dumbfounded. “…What?”

“You’ve improved so much since you were little and honestly…” Laurent and Inigo both jumped in shock as tears started falling down Olivia’s cheeks. “Your dancing is so beautiful!”

“WHAT?! I m-mean, it’s not…!” Inigo stuttered around as well, his dark blush still prominent, as he flailed his arms around, apparently unsure of how to deal with his crying mother.

“Inigo, we should dance together for the camp sometime,” Olivia said softly as she grabbed her son’s hands in her own. “It would be really fun, and I’m sure everyone will love it!”

“I-I CAN’T!” Inigo screamed as his face seemed to somehow darken several shades. Laurent wondered briefly how nothing _was_ coming to attack them with how loud the male dancer was shouting.

“You can,” Olivia assured, dropping one of Inigo’s hands to instead place a soft touch to his cheek. She then turned to Laurent, who flinched a little at suddenly being addressed. “Don’t you think so, Laurent?”

“Yes, I do.” Laurent nodded before he met Inigo’s eyes. “There’s a strong probability that everyone will feel the way I do when I watch you dance; and, if that’s the case, you never have to be embarrassed again.”

Inigo just gawked at him and, for some reason, Laurent found himself unable to hold his gaze. Though he meant what he said, and wasn’t embarrassed for saying it, he wasn’t really comfortable with the way Inigo was looking at him, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because human emotion was still a hard subject for him, and all of the emotion in Inigo’s eyes was too much for the mage.

Olivia giggled, breaking Laurent out of his reverie. “You have a really nice friend, don’t you Inigo?”

“W-what’s that supposed to mean?” Inigo sputtered as he took his gaze off Laurent, for which the mage was glad, and faced his mother.

“Exactly what it sounds like.” Olivia smiled, and a weird emotion glinted in her eyes that Laurent couldn’t identify.

Inigo mouth-flapped at her for a moment before his eyes met Laurent’s again. “…Yeah. Yeah I do.”

Laurent flushed and he felt warmth spread throughout his entire body. What…what was this feeling? What was this hot pain in his chest that made him want to smile until his cheeks burned? Why was it making him feel like he couldn’t look Inigo in the eye? Why was he so happy about what Inigo had said, anyway? It wasn’t like he’d said much…he’d just said Laurent was a nice friend. And maybe that was it – Laurent had never had a friend before, so perhaps he was glad that Inigo thought he was a good friend. Maybe Inigo’s opinion of him meant a lot to him.

But why?

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Inigo finally said after a moment of consideration, his eyes blazing with determination and passion. He looked at Laurent, and the mage nodded at him, glad that the male dancer was trying to get over his fears.

“Yay!” Olivia cheered, before she thanked Laurent and began to talk excitedly to Inigo about their rehearsal schedule. Laurent nodded in response, but he was distracted by the way Inigo’s eyes lit up and how he seemed to just glow with energy and excitement.

Slightly off-put, the mage stood off to the side as Inigo and Olivia embarrassed each other discussing their dance routine. The strange feeling in his chest wasn’t going away, and he was getting frustrated the more he couldn’t identify it. He’d have to run some experiments, or ask his father. It felt like some strange mix of happiness and embarrassment, but more importantly….

Why did Inigo cause him to feel such a strange mixture of emotions?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....Surprise!! XD  
>  ////sweats////  
> Oh my god, I know it's been something like a year since I've updated this, and I am so SO SORRY ;;;; That last year was honestly hell for me, I don't know how I got through it >~>   
> But anyway, I have not abandoned this fic, as some of you may have thought, and I'm going to try to update more regularly, perhaps once a month if I can even accomplish that.   
> Sorry to make you guys wait so long for this chapter though, I hope it was worth it anyway! XD   
> To whoever is out there who may still be reading, thanks a bunch!! <3

“Father,” Laurent said, pausing in front of where his father sat on a log by the campfire. “What does love feel like?”

Kellam nearly choked on his bear meat. Glancing up at his son, the general looked like he had swallowed wrong anyway. “… _What?”_

“I asked what love felt like,” Laurent repeated as he sat next to his father on the log. He didn’t understand what part of the question Kellam was having trouble grasping: it was straightforward and, Laurent thought, self-explanatory.

Laurent had come to the conclusion that he could not identify what he felt for Inigo on his own. He had performed a countless number of experiments, each trying to force an emotion out of himself in order for him to recognize and identify it. Writing had brought out joy, an emotion that was akin to what arose when the mage watched Inigo dancing at night, but it did not quite match. He had interacted with his mother, only to be rejected again, which had brought out pain and overwhelming sadness, both of which were on the opposite spectrum of his feelings. Training brought out pride when he finally mastered Rexcaliber, but frustration when mastery of Excalibur continued to escape him. Other members of the army’s inabilities to see his father amused him, while discussions with Chrom and Robin made him nervous. Accidentally walking out of the tent in only his smallclothes brought intense embarrassment.

None of the emotions he’d been able to force out, however, matched.

He had concluded that what he felt was something unique, something he had never felt before and that only Inigo could draw out of him. A comparison of personal experience was nonexistent. Therefore, it had to be an emotion that he was unfamiliar with. He could only think of three: love, lust, and jealousy. With no other option, he had decided that he would ask his father about each one in turn until he was able to figure out what it was that he was feeling.

It frustrated him to no end that he could not figure it out himself, but emotions seemed to escape the grasp of even simple experiment.

“What love feels like…” Kellam finally said, drawing Laurent from his thoughts. He seemed embarrassed. “Well…it’s kind of like…this _warmth_ that you feel in your chest that can spread to your whole body… Like, it happens every time you even think about the person you’re in love with, and it makes you happy. You want to be around them all the time, they occupy your thoughts nearly constantly, and yet it can be painful too when you’re not around that person as much as you wished you were… I guess.”

Laurent frowned. “Father, that isn’t scientific in any way.”

“I don’t know how else to explain it, Laurent!” Kellam threw his arms up in the air in exasperation. “No matter what your mother might think, I don’t think love is scientific at all. Or emotions in general, really.”

Kellam turned to face Laurent, his head tilted slightly. “Why are you even asking about this, anyway?”

“I…am trying to identify an emotion.” Laurent suddenly felt embarrassed, and he found he couldn’t look his father in the eye. How peculiar. “I only feel it around one person…and I wanted to know what it was.”

“Okay… Why don’t you try describing what you feel, then? Maybe I can identify it.”

“That seems logical,” Laurent agreed, though he quickly stumbled on a problem. How could he even explain with words these strange emotions that swam in his chest whenever he thought about Inigo, or was in his presence?

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed to fit his father’s earlier description. He _had_ been feeling a warmth in his chest around Inigo lately, a warmth that seemed to spread all the way down to his toes whenever the dancer smiled or laughed. He thought about him often, wondering about his wellbeing and if he was doing okay with his father. He enjoyed being around Inigo, and in his presence he felt like he could smile for hours. However, wasn’t that a natural feeling for a friend? Wasn’t one supposed to enjoy spending time with their friend? But…there _was_ that longing he felt flow through his veins sometimes when he watched Inigo dance, though he had still been unable to figure out what he was longing _for_. Could he still want a more intimate friendship?

When did feelings of friendship cross over into the territory of love?

Laurent pondered it, but the more he did so the more it confused him. He was, simply put, not good at this; human emotion completely escaped him and befuddled him, and he wondered how it could be so easy for every other human being.  

“Father, before I answer, does being in love feel different than fondness for a friend?”

Kellam thought for a while before he answered. “Yes and no… Love is a type of fondness, but there definitely is a kind of love between friends that is different than a love between lovers. However, I also believe the person you love can be your best friend as well.”

When Laurent just stared at him, Kellam blushed and shook his head. “Sorry, I’m not explaining this very well… For me, it’s just something you _know_. Robin and Stahl are very dear friends to me, and I love them, but I don’t love them in the way that I love your mother.”

“Then how am I supposed to tell the difference?” Laurent was having extreme trouble wrapping his mind around what his father was telling him. “I have never experienced close friendship before, and as far as I can compare I am feeling everything you are describing when it comes to love.”

“Is what you’re feeling stronger than what you feel for me and Miriel? Love for a partner is often stronger than love for friends and parents.”

“…I think so.” Laurent’s frown deepened. “But that is completely illogical. Why is love defined differently depending on who it is for?”

“Emotions often don’t follow the path of logic.” Kellam glanced at his son. “Have you ever heard of the expression ‘the heart wants what it wants, or else it does not care’?”

He had, but this only proved to confuse Laurent further. “Is that not from famous literature? Simply fiction?”

“Yeah, but elements of fiction often reflect the real world.” His father sent him an odd smile. “You should know that better than anyone, right?”

Laurent looked down at his hands, trying to process the information. Kellam had a point. The mage himself often included aspects of his life in his novels (which seemed to only partially explain Inigo’s overwhelming presence in them), so perhaps true wisdom could be learned from simple works of fiction.

But he still wasn’t sure he understood his father’s point for bringing up that particular phrase. “Are you claiming that…emotions can overrule logic?”

“Oh, definitely.” Kellam snorted. “People do so many dumb things in the name of love. If logic prevailed there, that wouldn’t happen, don’t you think?”

Laurent was truly amazed to realize that his father was right; after all, he’d experienced it himself before in many situations regarding his mother. Just a week ago, he had thrown a completely illogical fit, overrun by emotion entirely. It had been so easy to let the emotions take over his logic, but it hadn’t occurred to him until now the impact of that fact. He hadn’t realized that emotions held so much power. Was that why his mother had strived to squash his own emotions from such a young age, because of how overwhelming they could be? How did his mother fight them?

“So you hypothesize…” Laurent struggled for words. “That even though it is completely illogical…I have fallen in love?”

“I don’t hypothesize – I know. With what you’ve described, it definitely sounds like more than friendship to me.” Kellam grinned and patted Laurent so roughly on the back he nearly sent the mage catapulting forwards. “I never thought I would see the day!! My own son, falling in love! Well? Who is she??”

Discomfort suddenly squirmed in Laurent’s gut. It was already illogical enough that he’d fallen in love, but wasn’t it even _more_ so that he had fallen in love with someone of the same sex as him? At least love between male and female eventually bore fruit, but a same sex couple couldn’t even propagate their species.

There was absolutely _no_ logic to it.

Laurent was suddenly very, _very_ frightened.

“I…I need to go check on some experiments.” Ignoring his father calling out to him, Laurent shot up from the log and hurried out of the campsite. He was on the verge of panic, and he recited some of the most basic rules of science his mother had taught him to calm himself as he sped in the direction of his tent.

_Everything can be explained with enough observation…_

_It is only a theory once it has been proven by hard facts, otherwise it is simply a hypothesis…_

“Laurent!”

_One trial is not enough to prove results…_

“Hey, Laurent!!”

_Every substance in the known universe is made up of individual chemical elements…_

“LAURENT!!” A loud voice shouting in his ear suddenly made the mage jump. Turning, Laurent was faced with Inigo, who had what he recognized to be a teasing smirk on his face. For a moment his heart seemed to leap into his throat; his panic threatened to overwhelm him, but he took deep breaths in an attempt to force it down. It was just Inigo. Even if he was unclear about his emotions for the other, there was no reason he could not act normally around him.

Caught off guard, for a moment Laurent could merely blink. “…Inigo?”

“Man, you’re really spacy today! I’ve said hi to you like five times!” Inigo’s grin widened as he pulled up next to Laurent, walking with him in the direction of the mage’s tent. “How’s it going? I feel like we haven’t seen each other for a while, with my mother’s crazy rehearsal schedule and all…”

“I am doing alright,” Laurent lied, deciding to remain silent about his dilemma. Since they involved Inigo directly, it felt unwise to share with him his feelings. “How is your dance going?”

“I guess it’s okay…but my mom’s so good! I feel like a bumbling buffoon next to her…” Inigo scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, something Laurent had observed he did when he wasn’t feeling confident in himself.

“I am sure it doesn’t look that way to an observer,” Laurent assured his friend. “I think your dancing is just as beautiful as Olivia’s, if not better.”

Inigo blushed darkly, and Laurent could not help but smile in amusement. “Thanks Laurent… Hey, would you mind…coming to watch our rehearsal tonight? I’d really appreciate your opinion…”

“I’d…like that very much.” Laurent’s stomach flipped uncomfortably at the realization that he’d been about to say ‘love’ instead. “I’ve missed you.”

“Great! I’ve missed you too.” Inigo grinned wildly at him. “It’s not the same, not dancing in the middle of the woods for you, but my mother doesn’t approve.”

“Maybe you could convince her to change her mind, as long as you do not mention that time you were nearly eaten by a Risen.” Laurent attempted humor, and was pleased when Inigo laughed.

“Yeah, she’d freak if I told her about that.” Inigo suddenly grew quiet, causing Laurent to glance at him with concern.

“Inigo? Are you quite well?”

Inigo startled, as if he’d already forgotten Laurent was walking next to him. “Huh? Oh, yeah… Yeah I’m fine…”

It was not a very convincing answer, but the mage decided not to press. Inigo would tell him when he was ready, and he seemed happy enough so perhaps it wasn’t too serious. If it ever got serious, Laurent would step in, but for now he felt it appropriate to leave it be.

They elapsed into silence for the rest of the walk. It was comfortable for the mage, but he was suddenly aware of how fast his heart was beating. How could that be? He was not exerting himself in any way, and the heat he felt on his cheeks and the back of his neck seemed unnatural. It couldn’t be sunburn, as his hat protected those areas of skin.

Could this be…another symptom of love?

Laurent shook his head to dispel the thought. It couldn’t be; it was completely illogical that what he felt for Inigo was love. It was a silly emotion, and it seemed ridiculous enough between male and female, let alone between two males. Why would one want to spend most of their time around only one person? It made absolutely no sense. It seemed to be a basic part of human nature to stay in groups, so why was a pair bond so much stronger than that? And Laurent didn’t seem to feel the same way as other couples he’d observed in love; he had no desires to kiss Inigo, or perform other intimate gestures with him. He had no desire to hold Inigo’s hand, no desire to sneak into his tent in the middle of the night and experiment with him. The only things he had were an irresistible desire to be around the other as much as possible and happiness whenever he was able to do so.

But…his father had said that that was a criterion for love… Was it possible to only feel certain symptoms, and yet still have the emotion classified as love?

Besides, there was this… _comfort_ that had transcended over him ever since Inigo appeared by his side. Being near the dancer made his worries seem insignificant, and Laurent marveled at how Inigo merely had to smile at him to help him relax from his panicked state. Wasn’t love full of insecurities, as well? He thought he remembered his father saying that he’d felt even more invisible when he’d fallen in love with Miriel, worried that he wasn’t smart enough for her.

Laurent didn’t feel insecure. He felt safe; he trusted Inigo, and knew he would not judge him for being who he was. He knew the dancer had his back no matter what and would support him in every dream he had, whether it be writing or something else entirely. None of this seemed to match the criteria Kellam had explained to him, so how could it still be love when it only fit into one criterion?

Kellam had to be wrong; what he was feeling couldn’t be love.

No, there had to be another explanation, a logical one. There always was.

 

\--

 

Inigo was having second thoughts.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to dance with his mother; he did, it had been his dream since he was a child. Being able to practice and dance with her was like a dream come true, even though he felt like he grotesquely paled next to her, and yet he hesitated.

One of the things that made him hesitate seemed silly, and yet it hindered him all the same. With the new training schedule Olivia had come up with, Inigo no longer had time to practice out in the middle of the woods with Laurent. For that reason, it had been ages since he’d seen his friend, and he couldn’t deny that it was making him feel melancholic. He’d been so happy he’d managed to run into him earlier in the day, but that encounter had just reminded him how much he missed their late night rendezvous.

The truth of the matter was that he missed Laurent. He missed just chatting with him and spending time with him, something that seemed impossible during the day no matter how hard they tried.

The fact that Laurent was coming to observe him tonight helped some, but it wouldn’t be the same; after all, Olivia would be there. Neither Inigo nor Laurent could open up to each other like they usually did, and knowing his mother she may not even give them time to talk until afterwards anyway.

And while he loved dancing, he was starting to wonder what the point was if Laurent wasn’t there watching him. He’d started dancing _for_ someone, which seemed so amazing after how long he’d been afraid of an audience, and it was off-putting to not have the mage there for his practicing.

There was, however, a much bigger reason as to why he was wondering if he really wanted to dance with Olivia in public, one that was rooted so much into his being from his childhood that he wondered if it was even possible to get over it: his fear of his father.

Gregor had _hated_ the fact that Olivia had taught Inigo to dance. When Inigo had danced for his father Gregor had flown into a fit of rage that still made the dancer flinch when he thought about it. His father had beaten him, screamed at him that males weren’t supposed to dance, and then did it all over again when Inigo burst into tears.

That fear was rooted so strongly in Inigo that he thought about telling his mother he couldn’t do it after all. He didn’t want Gregor to get mad at him again; he was already unsatisfied with everything Inigo did, but at least he didn’t beat him anymore. At least Inigo’s charade of loving to fight had pleased him somewhat, and the dancer was afraid to show his father that that had all been an act. He wanted Gregor’s approval; he wanted to be a son that Gregor could be proud of.

And, no matter how much he loved dancing, he knew he could never have that if he showed his father who he truly was.

That evening, as Inigo waited in his tent for Laurent to show up so they could walk to where he usually practiced with Olivia together, the dancer considered breaking off his arrangement with his mother. It pained him, but he didn’t think he could do it. As much as he wished it didn’t, his father’s opinion mattered to him, and he didn’t want to anger him even further by showing him the girly tendencies he’d thought he’d squashed.  

He would continue to dance, of course he would, but he was starting to think that maybe it was okay if he just danced for Laurent.

Inigo lost his nerve the longer he stood there waiting for the mage to come. Now he wasn’t even sure he could tell his mother he didn’t want to do it, and was seriously considering just running away somewhere where she wouldn’t be able to find him.

When Laurent finally arrived he didn’t even notice it, and it startled him so badly when a hand landed on his shoulder that he jumped several feet in the air. Spinning around so quickly he almost fell over, Inigo released a sigh of relief when he saw it was just his friend standing there with a concerned crease in his brow. “Inigo? Are you quite alright?”

It was the exact same thing the mage had asked him earlier. Inigo had been unable to tell him then, as he felt ashamed of his feelings, but maybe he _should_ tell Laurent. He’d told him about everything else, so it wasn’t like he had anything to worry about, and the mage probably had good advice. His logic was useful for that.

“Uh, to be honest, I’m not sure I am, Laurent…” Shuffling his feet awkwardly, Inigo couldn’t look Laurent in the eye. “…I’m having second thoughts about dancing with my mother.”

Laurent looked confused. “Why? If it is because you think your dancing is clumsy, it really isn’t—”

“It’s not that,” Inigo interrupted. “Well, maybe it is a little, but it’s mainly because…well…I’m scared if we perform for the camp my father will see…”

“Oh, I see…” Laurent paused for a moment, during which they began to walk towards the secluded clearing where Olivia was waiting. “Inigo, I don’t think you should force yourself, or be ashamed of your fear. If your father is a hindering factor to your dreams, then I think it is important to approach him first and work things out. You cannot fulfill your dream of performing for an audience if your father is so unsupportive, so I think—”

“But I don’t even know if that’s what I want anymore!” Inigo shouted without thinking. Panic immediately pulsed in his veins; shit, why had he said that?! He wasn’t prepared to tell Laurent what he’d been thinking about yet!

Laurent looked taken aback, and for a moment he just stared at Inigo. The dancer could feel his eyes boring into him even without looking, causing his cheeks to flare up. “What do you mean, Inigo? I thought it was your dream to be a well-known dancer.”

“It is! Or at least, it was…” Inigo suddenly realized that he had no idea what he wanted. Was he really going to give up on the dream he’d had since he was a child just because of his father? Was that really okay with him?? “I just…I’ve been thinking lately that…it wouldn’t be so bad to just dance for you…”

For a tense moment, Laurent said nothing. Inigo felt like he was going to burn up; he was embarrassed, and confused at why exactly he was. What was wrong with wanting to dance for a friend? It was fun dancing for Laurent, and teaching him how to dance, and lately he’d been thinking more and more about how fun it would be to dance together with him for real. Just the two of them alone, twirling around each other in a dark forest full of monsters…

…When had Laurent started taking over his thoughts, rather than his mother?

After a long silence, Laurent finally spoke up, his voice soft. “…Is that really what you want, Inigo?”

“I-I…” Inigo shrugged helplessly, finally looking his friend in the eye for the first time. “I don’t know…”

“I will support you in whatever your dreams may be,” Laurent said, and Inigo flinched as the mage’s warm hand was suddenly clasping his tightly, comfortingly, “but I want you to be sure.”

For a moment, they just stared at each other in shock. Laurent looked surprised that he was suddenly holding Inigo’s hand, and the dancer was surprised by how understanding the mage was. He hadn’t questioned him at all about why he was suddenly willing to give up on his lifelong dream, or demand him to know what he wanted already.

He just…understood.

Only after that had processed did Inigo realize that Laurent was still holding his hand. Flushing darkly, Inigo’s heart sped up and he once again broke eye contact with his friend. What was going on…? Why did this moment seem…strangely intimate…?

“I-I have to think about it some more…” Inigo eventually croaked out, his hands sweating and his voice cracked. He tried to laugh, but it came out sounding forced. “I don’t know what I want.”

Laurent nodded before, to Inigo’s strange disappointment, let go of his hand and took an awkward step back. They continued on their way to Olivia, but a weird, heavy air had settled between them. Inigo felt awkward and embarrassed, but again he didn’t know why. His cheeks were still darkly flushed and his heart was beating so fast he worried it would burst right out of his chest. What was happening…? The only time he’d ever felt like this before was…when he flirted with pretty women…

“Are you going to tell Olivia?” Laurent asked, thankfully breaking Inigo out of his thoughts before they could go in a weirder direction.

“Yeah, I think so…” Inigo already dreaded it. “She’ll be upset, but I think you’re right in saying that I can’t achieve this until I face my father.”

Laurent nodded, once again understanding without questioning. Inigo’s heart swelled with a strange warmth from the mage’s undying support. “I think that is for the best. Just remember that I’m always here for you, Inigo.”

“Thanks, Laurent.” Inigo managed a small smile for the mage. “It means a lot, truly.”

The rest of the walk was traveled in silence. Inigo’s stomach felt completely twisted from nerves, almost like the way it felt whenever he thought about dancing in front of someone that wasn’t Laurent. Even though he felt like he was making the right decision (Laurent’s assurance had helped that), he was worried his mother was going to be really disappointed in him. After all, she seemed like she was looking forward to this too, and he felt bad about taking it away from her.

But then again, it wasn’t permanent… Inigo just had to figure things out with Gregor first.

That idea seemed even more daunting than explaining to Olivia why he couldn’t dance with her, and his stomach twisted even further. He felt like he was going to throw up. How was he even supposed to straighten things out with his father? Gregor would never change his mind; he was stubborn and stuck in his ways, as Inigo had learned over the years, and the whole idea seemed impossible. All he would be doing trying to straighten things out with his father would be making him hate him more than he already did.

Sadness clenching his heart, Inigo chewed his lip nervously. Dammit, why did his mother have to follow him and Laurent into the woods that one time, and then talk him into dancing with her? Why couldn’t she have waited until he was ready to approach her himself? All of this would have been avoided, and Inigo could continue dancing for Laurent and Laurent alone…

His stomach twisted again. Dancing for Laurent before hadn’t seemed so strange until now: why did it seem so intimate all of a sudden? They were just spending time with each other as friends. There was nothing wrong with that. And yet, his desire to be around Laurent and dance for him was suddenly outweighing the desire to accomplish his lifelong dream, and it _scared_ Inigo.

When had Laurent become more important than his dream?

 

\--

 

Laurent was intimidated by how this—whatever feeling it was—was suddenly making him act around Inigo.

After giving it consciousness, and tentatively describing it as love, it had already seemed to start gaining control over his behavior. The other night when he’d gone to observe Inigo’s and Olivia’s dance he had just reached for his hand _without thinking_ , like something that intimate could ever be second nature. Why had it felt right in that moment to do that? Why had Laurent suddenly craved the touch, even though he never had before?

…This was getting out of hand. In his quest to identify the emotion, he had once again forgotten that it was possible for it to overcome his logical reasoning. He couldn’t allow that to happen. In order to keep up the best friendship he could with Inigo, it was important that he kept his awareness, logic, and sense of self.

He must learn to overcome his emotion, and ergo control it.

Laurent returned to his tent early that night, as in the end there had not been a dance performed to observe. Inigo had explained to his mother why he couldn’t dance with her yet, and apologized. Olivia had obviously been upset, even Laurent could tell, but she had also been understanding. She had told Inigo that she would wait for however long it took him to work things out with Gregor, and that was that. Inigo hadn’t looked well, so Laurent recommended he return to his tent rather than practice his dance for him in their more private forest setting. They promised they would meet the next night, though Laurent secretly wondered if Inigo would feel up to it, and then went their separate ways for the night.

The moment he got back to his own tent, Laurent sat down to write. He felt a sense of urgency: he must learn how to control himself before he saw Inigo, lest he do something like the handholding again.

With his quill pen in hand, Laurent started his list. He wrote down every symptom he had observed of this emotion he felt, making sure to be thorough and accurate. He couldn’t go back to Kellam, as his father had already offered up his opinion, so he only had one choice.

He had to take the list to his mother, and ask her how he was supposed to control this unknown emotion.

The thought made him incredibly nervous, but he saw no other option. He had no one else he could ask about this, as it was far too personal to just show to one of the other Shepherds that he only talked to on his daily rounds for Gerome. He’d kept at them, even though the wyvern rider had started to join him now and didn’t really need his help anymore, and it was the one event of human contact that he had outside of Inigo. They were nowhere near close, however, at least not close enough for him to ask about this.

Besides, he had a hunch that Gerome didn’t know much more about this than he did, based on how little he indulged in human contact.

No, for this he needed adult advice.

When the list was done, Laurent stuck it in his cloak and exited his tent. Apprehension followed him as he made his way to Miriel’s tent; he had not spoken to his mother for quite some time. He had kept his distance after the last time she had rejected him, as the stress level of maintaining his relationship with her as well as with Inigo had been too much for him. He was bad with emotions, and even worse with an overload of them, and it felt necessary for a time to only focus on one relationship.

Inigo had been the obvious choice of which one to stick with.

Now, however, he was starting to regret it: who knew how far Miriel had regressed now that he’d stopped visiting her every day? What if she was in an even worse mood than usual? Would she even be willing to help him?

With effort, Laurent pushed the thoughts aside. It was pointless working himself up, as he had already decided to do it and he believed it to truly be his only way forward. Besides, there was always the possibility that his mother would be warmer to him after the distance, even though it was minute.

When he came to stand in front of her tent, Laurent took a deep breath before lifting the flap and poking his head inside. “Mother?”

Miriel was at her desk, as per usual, working on an experiment with flames. Laurent remembered, with a sharp pinch in his gut, that that was one of the first experiments he had ever worked on with his mother. And one of the last as well. She didn’t look up from her work at Laurent’s voice, and it was almost as if he hadn’t been gone at all. Absolutely nothing had changed.

Fighting the urge to turn around and walk out, Laurent stepped farther into the tent. “Mother, could I ask for your help on something?”

That seemed to perk her interest. For the first time in years, Miriel turned to look at him. “What is it, Laurent?”

Encouraged, Laurent entered the tent completely and walked to his mother’s side. Pulling the paper out of his cloak, he handed it to her. “Mother, this emotion has been plaguing me recently, and I was hoping you could identify it and…teach me how to control it.”

She stared at him for a moment, her scrutiny making Laurent uncomfortable. Wordlessly, she took the paper from him and scanned it over. Laurent was glad Miriel was actually taking the time to at least look it over, as it was more attention than she’d given him in quite some while, but he was nervous about what she would conclude. He was worried that, despite how illogical he thought it to be, his father may have been right.

“…Laurent.” Breaking himself out of his thoughts, Laurent looked at his mother’s face, giving her his full attention. For the life of him, he could not read her expression.

“Yes, Mother?”

“I thought I taught you better than this.” Laurent was startled by the anger in Miriel’s voice. Before he could figure out how to respond, she stood from her stool, light flashing dangerously off her glasses. Though she was not as tall as him, her straight posture was intimidating. “How many times have I told you, Laurent? Once the emotion is present, it is almost impossible to get rid of it. How could you have let this love progress so far?”

Laurent froze. … _Love?_ Was his mother saying that Kellam had been right? He was _in love_ with Inigo? What did that mean? “I just noticed it, Mother – I didn’t know what it was, let alone what to do about it. I was hoping you would—”

“The only way to get rid of it is to ignore it and isolate yourself from that person as much as possible.” Her eyes narrowed at him. “But I hypothesize that you don’t want to do that.”

Her words stung. The only way to overcome the emotion was to isolate himself from Inigo? Just the thought hurt, and Laurent immediately realized that his mother was right: he’d let this progress too far. Even though he had only barely given it consciousness, it had already grown into something he had no willpower to control.

But…was it really such a bad thing?

“There is no alternative?” Laurent said after a moment of silence. “Surely there is a way to still be logical and have feelings for—”

“How can you be focused on experiments when you must tend to every need of your lover?” Miriel sniffed. “People are needy; no one but scientists understand the need to always be at work.”

Laurent, though he considered himself to be a scientist, _did not_ understand. There was no need to work all of the time – he made plenty of observations and experiments throughout the day without spending every waking minute doing it. He left time for Gerome’s rounds, for his nightly encounters with Inigo, for writing. It helped him focus: when he left his work for a period of time, he came back to it refreshed and full of new ideas.

“Mother, working all of the time is illogical—”

“I’m disappointed in you.” Sitting back down, she turned away from him and returned to scribbling in her notebook. “Being in love only wastes time, time that could be better spent solving the mysteries of this world.”

For a moment, Laurent was absolutely shocked. … _Wastes time_ …?! Was she saying that Kellam…had just been a waste of time? That Laurent himself was only a waste of time? That all of the times they had spent working and experimenting together had been for naught?! The idea hurt, and Laurent’s voice trembled with pain as he said quietly, “…So Father and I mean nothing to you? Is that what we’ve always been to you; a waste of time?”

 Miriel glanced up at him; she looked impatient, as if she was annoyed that Laurent could not understand. “I raised you to be a scientist so that one day we could work side by side, and you have betrayed me by listening to your heart instead of your brain. Of course I find that a waste of time. And Kellam was a good guinea pig for a while…but then he had to bring emotion into it and it became complicated.”

Laurent was practically shaking from his anger. He was hurt, more hurt than he had ever been in his life: to be told by his own mother that raising him had been a waste of time, even though he had tried so hard, done everything she’d told him to, to one day meet her standards. And not only that, but she was brushing aside Kellam, the only person who truly loved her, the person who had the most patience when it came to her experiments. Kellam had listened day in and day out to Miriel’s theories, had acted as her test subject with no complaints, and his mother was actually saying that that had been a waste of time…that it wasn’t even worth being one of the only people able to see his father?

He was yelling before he even realized what was happening. “I tried to be by your side! I gave up everything for you! I threw away emotions, people I could have been friends with, anything that could possibly be _fun_ in my childhood so that I could practice science with you, so that I could one day stand by your side! But as soon as I got to a level I was proud of, you shut us out!! _Every day_ I have come to you, hoping to work and learn with you, and you always pushed me away! If I am truly a waste of time, then it is nothing but _your fault!!”_

He was not expecting the slap to his cheek. The blow was enough to sting, and Laurent was completely stunned as he slowly turned to look at Miriel. She was standing again, and she looked absolutely furious. “You are letting your emotions get in the way again! Think about it logically, Laurent: more things would be accomplished if we worked independently! I’ve taught you everything you need to know to be a successful scientist.”

She stared at him with disdain. “If you did not find it necessary to let your emotions get in the way all of the time, you would be top notch already. Emotions cloud logical thinking; how can you expect to be a scientist in the state you are currently in?”

“…If being a scientist means being like you,” Laurent’s lip trembled, but he kept speaking anyway, “then I never want to be a scientist.”

Miriel froze, her face suddenly losing all emotion. For a while, neither of them spoke, just stood there, locked in a space that seemed frozen in time. Laurent regretted the words that left his mouth almost as soon as he said them; he didn’t mean that. He admired his mother and her work, and he truly enjoyed being a scientist. As lonely as he was as a child, he’d loved performing experiments with Miriel and he realized suddenly that his mother was right: he was letting his emotions take control of him. He was failing to constrain his anger and think logically, and now he had said something that could never be unsaid.   

After what seemed like an eternity, time started again and Miriel spoke. “…Get out of my tent.”

“Mother, I—”

“Get out, Laurent!!” Miriel pointed her finger violently towards the flap of her tent. “…Don’t ever speak to me again.”

Stunned, all of the anger suddenly flooded out of his body as Laurent turned and silently did as he was told. He felt numb as he walked out into the night, barely processing the cool air that struck his face.

What had he done? All of the effort he had put into visiting Miriel each day, attempting to spark her interest, was ruined because he had failed to control his emotion. He had let things like love, anger, and pain cloud his judgement to the point that he had permanently ruined his relationship with the one person he had always admired and dreamed of working with.

It seemed unfair; after all, Miriel had also been speaking with emotion. Laurent had processed anger from her almost the entire time they were speaking. She criticized Laurent for being unable to control her emotions when she was doing the exact same thing.

Did that mean that, for even someone as logical as his mother, it was impossible to fully control emotion with logic alone?

He wondered if it even mattered anymore: bringing up that point with his mother would only make their relationship worse, and it wasn’t like she would let him anywhere near enough to even be able to say anything in the first place. She had shoved him permanently away and Laurent had, as Inigo would say, ‘completely screwed up’.

When had his mother become like this? So obsessed with her work… She hadn’t always been like this. Laurent had very young memories of the three of them going on picnics together and exploring the forest when he was old enough to not hurt himself as he walked. He remembered his mother teaching him all of the genuses of plants that surrounded him, while his father taught him how to tell if something was edible or poisonous.

Miriel had not always been at work when he was young, and Laurent, as he often had, wondered what had changed to make her so obsessed now.

Sadness swelled in his chest as he continued to reminisce, and he bitterly wondered if he was completely at the mercy of his emotions now. Was his mother right? Had he all along been listening to his heart rather than his brain? He didn’t believe he used to; he barely knew emotions well enough to even identify the most basic ones only a couple of months ago.

Laurent realized, with a start, that he had not started feeling wells of emotion until he had met Inigo.  

The thought of Inigo, for once, did nothing to comfort him. His mother had confirmed what he had worried to be true: somehow, illogically, he was in love with Inigo, yet another emotion that suddenly seemed to hang on him as heavily as his cloak when it rained. How could he, a scientist who barely had a grasp on other emotions, fall so pathetically? He had no idea what had even attracted his attention to Inigo, what had overcome his biological need to propagate his species and instead crave the company of someone of the same sex as him.

It made no sense, and the panic Laurent had felt before clutched him again.

What was he supposed to do with this information? Theoretically, he was supposed to _tell_ Inigo, but there seemed to be no benefits that he could think of in doing so. After all, there was no evidence that his friend felt similarly towards him. Laurent was afraid that, if he told Inigo his predicament, he would mess up the only other good relationship he had left, besides the one with his father of course.

But on the other hand, his mother had said that the only way to get rid of the emotion was to isolate himself from Inigo and not think about him at all. That option seemed just as impossible, and Laurent’s panic only seemed to increase.  

Inigo was the reason he felt any emotion at all, that he had learned what it was like to be happy, and he could not figure out if that was a good thing or not.

For the first time in his life, had he stumbled across an unsolvable problem?

As he trudged back to his own tent, Laurent felt tears slip down his cheeks. Not only had he lost his mother, but he was now isolated in an emotion that he barely understood and had no idea how to act upon.

 

\--

 

Inigo was worried about Laurent.

It had only been one day since they’d seen each other, but the mage’s behavior had completely changed. He was secluded, and seemed to brush Inigo off every time he tried to approach him about what was wrong. Laurent usually took his time telling Inigo about things that were personal to him, but this was just _strange_.

The mage acted like it pained him to be around Inigo. He had a permanent frown on his face the entire time Inigo had danced for him that night, which was strange enough as Laurent was usually smiling when he watched him, but it was even stranger because the frown seemed so forced. Every time Inigo looked over, it seemed like Laurent was putting all of his attention into maintaining his frown, rather than watching Inigo dance. He didn’t even take his notes anymore. When Inigo asked him if he wanted another dancing lesson, Laurent had promptly refused, and wouldn’t change his mind no matter how Inigo pestered him. The mage no longer indulged in their usual conversations, or asked Inigo how he was faring. He just sat silently, only speaking when Inigo asked him a question, and even then his answers were vague and full of big words the dancer didn’t understand. He seemed to have lost all progress on slang and casual interactions that Inigo had taught him over the months.  

Inigo grew more and more concerned when this continued to happen all into the next week. He’d never seen the mage like this, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done something wrong. Could he have upset Laurent somehow? Maybe his friend was disappointed that he’d chickened out and wasn’t going to dance with Olivia anymore. But…he’d seemed so supportive when he’d first shared his worries with the mage…

Was he tired of Inigo’s flirting? Did he find him repetitive and boring since he didn’t often mix up his dance, too afraid of confusing himself? Did he find his crying and insecurities repulsive? Old insecurities, ones that he’d thought Laurent had healed, flooded into Inigo’s chest like a dam opening; was it because he was ugly and girly? Did his dancing no longer have the charm Laurent had claimed it had? Was his sense of humor too crude?

It had to be _something_ he’d done; Laurent would’ve told him already if it had involved someone else. But as it was, the dancer could practically feel the wall Laurent had put up between them, and it hurt.

_Dammit_ what had he _done??_

Eventually, Laurent didn’t show up in the clearing at all. The mage had _always_ showed up before. While Inigo himself had sometimes overslept, Laurent had always come. The only time he hadn’t showed up was when he thought Inigo wasn’t coming anymore; this was completely different.

Laurent knew he would be there, and decided not to show up.

The first night it happened Inigo had curled into a ball next to the log Laurent always sat on and cried. He hated himself; obviously he had done something to make Laurent hate him, just like Gregor did, just like everyone would if he ever revealed himself to them. Why was he such a terrible person? Why was it impossible to find someone who could like him for what he was, instead of what he pretended to be? Why was it impossible for him to keep that person once he found them?

Every night after that Laurent failed to show up. After a while Inigo stopped going as well; there was no point. Every time he went he just sat and cried. He could do that in his tent, instead of a clearing in a Risen-infested forest.

However there was still a part of him that had hoped, that maybe if he kept going Laurent would change his mind and come back.

But he never had.

Now it was too painful to go back to the clearing; Inigo was plagued with memories of time he’d spent with Laurent, of all of the fun they had had together. They plagued him even when he wasn’t in the clearing, but at least elsewhere he wasn’t staring at the exact place Laurent would be sitting if he was there, the exact place where Laurent had stumbled through his first dance steps.

Seeing them just made Inigo depressed, and he couldn’t do it anymore.

Instead he stayed around camp, mindlessly helping clean up in the mess hall or at the campfire. He lost weight. He ate only when he was around people who would notice and ask if he didn’t. He stuck to his tent as much as possible. He cried. He practiced his swordplay alone. He avoided his friends and parents.

He didn’t dance. And he didn’t see Laurent.

No one asked him what was wrong. Occasionally Inigo wondered if they even realized something was off about him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he was depressed, that maybe he should see someone about this, but the bigger part of him didn’t want to. He knew that, if he talked about it, it would rip the wound right open and make it hurt even more than it already did. His tears were finally drying, probably only because he didn’t have any liquid left in his body, and he worried that talking about it would start it all up again.

He didn’t want to think about it, even though the longing tugged at his heart every single second. His body and heart ached to dance, but he had lost his reason to. His first dream was halted because facing his father had already seemed impossible, but without Laurent by his side supporting him it seemed even more so. His second dream no longer existed, because Laurent hated him.

Inigo had lost all meaning to his life, and instead sat around thinking about what he’d had and what he couldn’t see himself ever having again. He missed dancing, he missed laughing, he missed flirting with girls, he missed practicing with Lucina, he missed talking to the other children.

But most of all he missed Laurent, the Laurent he’d come to know and… _love_.


	5. Chapter 5

It only took about a week for someone to realize there was something wrong with Inigo, though by that time the male dancer was on the verge of collapse.

The days after Laurent had stopped meeting with him seemed to stretch longer and longer in torturous loneliness and monotony. The more days that passed, the more Inigo found it difficult to pretend to be okay, the more it became tougher and tougher to convince himself to get out of bed and go eat or interact with people. His mental health had become so bad lately that it was exhausting to be awake most days – every interaction, every _movement_ took so much effort that Inigo hardly bothered anymore. He left his tent as little as possible and avoided everyone like the plague.

Though he had originally been able to stomach human contact, it was starting to become unbearable. Countless of people visited his tent each day, inviting him somewhere, griping at him about something else if it was his father, but Inigo turned each one away. It was harder and harder not to show how depressed he really was, and just the thought of putting on his mask, putting up the brave front that shielded his broken heart for everyone made him feel sick, and it felt impossible with his fragile state of mind.

Besides, none of them were the one person he longed to visit him with all of his heart.

Laurent. The mage hadn’t left his mind for more than a second. He thought about every interaction they’d ever had together, over and over again in a loop that never seemed to end. He felt desperate to figure out what he’d done wrong so that he could go to Laurent and apologize to him and fix everything. But, the more he went through it, the worse he became.

He could never find anything he’d done wrong, which only meant what he feared to be true: Laurent had stopped talking to him because he’d grown to hate him.

He had no idea how everything could’ve changed so quickly, how in just one day they could go from fast friends to nothing, but Inigo couldn’t find any other reason. Laurent must have realized that Inigo was repulsing and girly, or a wimp, or was ugly and smelled bad or maybe a combination of everything. Maybe Inigo had become too clingy, scaring the mage away by telling him that he was fine only dancing for him.

And maybe that was it too – maybe Laurent was actually disappointed in him for postponing his dreams, for considering giving up on them all together. Maybe he’d only needed Inigo to increase the chances of making his own dream succeed, and now that he was having doubts Laurent had no further need for him.

Every thought and worry stung, adding to the overwhelming amount of pain that seemed to leak out of Inigo’s heart and into every fiber of his body. It seemed so unfair, that Inigo could have such intense longing to be around Laurent, to just simply _see_ him, and yet Laurent didn’t seem to care about him at all.

Had it been one-sided all along? Had everything been a lie?

With his mental state, Inigo was able to believe it. So for most of every day he stayed in bed and cried until he couldn’t cry anymore and then fell into fitful sleep that was full of nightmares of abandonment and childhood trauma that he’d never really shaken.

Ironically, the only thing he’d been able to keep up with besides crying and laying around in bed depressed was practicing his sword technique. It was the only thing that kept his mind off of Laurent; originally he’d done mindless tasks around camp, desperate to find something, _anything_ , to distract himself, but the only thing that had actually succeeded was his training. There was something about it that was soothing, the pure focus needed to improve emptying his mind in a way that was impossible otherwise. It was a relief, to forget about the world and all of his troubles and just slash at a target with a mindless focus that he couldn’t get anywhere else.

For the first time in his life, Inigo was starting to understand why his father loved this so much. He didn’t have to think about anything but the turn of his wrist and his balance as he thrusted with his entire body. In a way, it was similar to the amount of focus he put into dancing, though now, in a strange twist of fate, swordplay had become much less painful than practicing his dancing.

So he worked himself every waking moment until his muscles collapsed from exhaustion and his throat burned with dehydration. Despite the physical exhaustion, it was the only mental rest he could get; sleeping had become impossible, with all of the plagues that he chased away during the day flooding back immediately. It seemed like a never-ending trade-off: at night he would rest his exhausted body and be torn apart in both mind and spirit while during the day he shut off his brain and worked his body until he could barely move.

With how many days he was doing this, it was no wonder that someone eventually came up and stopped him. What he hadn’t expected, however, was that person to be his father.

“Inigo.” The strongly-accented voice and the hand suddenly resting on his shoulder made the dancer jump up from the log he’d collapsed onto, startled. His head swam the moment he made it to his feet, and he would’ve fallen if Gregor’s arm hadn’t suddenly wrapped around his torso, supporting him. “…You been working hard lately.”

“Ah, yeah, I’ve been…” Bile rose to Inigo’s throat suddenly and fiercely, and he had to hold a hand to his mouth to force it back down. How long had it been since he’d last eaten? “…I’ve had nothing better to do.”

“You need rest,” Gregor said sternly, guiding Inigo back down onto the log. To the dancer’s surprise, his father sat down next to him, his arm still supporting Inigo’s back. “You will not improve if overwork yourself like this.”

Inigo snorted drily. His head had stopped spinning for the moment, but his stomach still felt empty and acidic. It made it hard to focus on anything; while he would’ve once found this conversation frustrating and impossible, he felt so empty and _tired_ that he couldn’t even bring himself to care. “It’s funny, dad – it seems like I can’t improve no matter what I do.”

“You need to find proper balance between training and rest.” For the first time ever, Gregor didn’t seem angry when he went through the familiar spiel, like the response was just so automatic at this point. He peered at Inigo. “When was last time you eat?”

…So he’d noticed, huh? If Gregor had noticed then _everybody_ had noticed. Just the thought of that made Inigo feel sicker. “…I don’t remember…”

“Okay, up we go.” And suddenly his father was hefting Inigo to his feet, practically carrying him as he led him in the direction of the mess hall. “You so light – need to eat more.”

“I’m not hungry, dad…” Inigo protested, but Gregor waved him off.

“Stupid boy,” his father muttered, and for the first time it almost sounded… _affectionate_. Inigo offhandedly wondered if his father was feeling alright.

When they got to the mess hall, Inigo was relieved to sit down and rest his weary limbs. The mess hall was empty besides the two of them and the Shephard on duty, and as Inigo peered through the opening into the kitchen he was immensely relieved to see that it was Stahl’s turn to cook. If he had to stomach anything, he was glad it was going to be made by the best cook in camp.

While Gregor left to get the food from Stahl, Inigo stared down at the table and tried not to think about anything. Unfortunately, however, trying not to think about it only made him think about it more. He wondered if Laurent was eating enough, or if he’d finally mastered Excalibur, or if he had improved things with his mom at all. He wondered what he was doing that very second, imagined him sitting at his desk working on his novel. He wondered with a heavy heart if the mage had cut out all of the scenes with the character based off of Inigo….

“Okay, eat up!!” Gregor shouted with enthusiasm as he slammed two trays with creamy bear meat and vegetable stew and two pieces of bread coated with melted butter onto the table, startling the dancer out of his thoughts. As his father sat down across from him, Inigo almost had to look around to see if there was actually someone else there; this kind of enthusiasm and passion was usually reserved for everyone but Inigo, and it was odd to be the audience of it now.

Inigo picked at his food for a moment, still feeling too sick to be hungry, and watched his father wolf down the food. Gregor was a messy eater on a good day, a trait that Inigo had unfortunately adopted; it made him quite embarrassed and shy, even more so than usual, to eat around other people, so he often ate very slowly in public so he could focus on being as neat and tidy as possible. It had been a long time since he’d not only eaten with his father but was around someone who didn’t care if he made a mess. In fact, Inigo making a mess when he ate was one of the few things Gregor actually _approved_ of.

The thought weighed heavily in the dancer’s chest as he turned a piece of meat over and over again with his spoon. How pathetic was it that the only thing he did that made his father proud was eat food like a barbarian? No wonder Laurent had left him…

And suddenly it was all too much. As he shakily pulled the spoon to his lips and took a bite of that hot bear meat stew, Inigo dissolved into tears. He tried to stop them, but it was no use; they trickled down his nose and into his soup as sobs shook his shoulders, everything breaking out of him like the opening of a dam.

Gregor glanced up at him, clearly alarmed, and he swore in his native tongue before saying in English, “Inigo, come now! There is no need for tears!”

“I-I-I’m not trying to—” And yet Inigo couldn’t stop; if anything, the tears only fell harder.

He didn’t even know why he was crying. It seemed like every sadness that he had ever held in his heart was suddenly flooding out of him, and the fear of what his father might do to him now that he was crying only made it worse. He cried for every time he had tried to impress his father and failed; he cried for every opportunity he had missed to dance with his mother or just dance in general. He cried for every rejection he’d ever received from a girl, for every time he had failed to talk to one. He cried for the fact that he wasn’t the son Gregor had wanted, that it was impossible for him to be that person. He cried for the sad realization that the only time his father had shown him any form of kindness in the last eighteen years was because he had starved and worked himself until he collapsed.

And, of course, he cried for Laurent, for every moment he had been lonely and depressed, for everything they could’ve been together if Inigo hadn’t fucked up everything. He cried for the aching hole in his heart that Laurent had filled with such warmth and joy and for the fact that he couldn’t see him anymore or talk to him. He cried for the fact that he couldn’t be there to support Laurent, to help him learn how to interact with others and feel emotions, to teach him how to be a good friend. He cried for the regret of not trying harder to keep Laurent; he should’ve talked to him that first day he’d been acting strange. Maybe they could’ve worked things out; maybe Inigo could’ve found out what was wrong and changed himself for the better.

But he hadn’t, and instead he was crying into his soup bowl and waiting for the moment Gregor would punish him for it.

“I-I’m sorry I’m such a h-horrible p-p-person,” Inigo eventually sniffed out as he raised his hands to his eyes in a vain attempt to wipe them dry, having the sudden urge to say _something_. “I’m sorry I c-can’t b-be the son that you w-wanted…”

Gregor was silent for a moment, and it made Inigo cringe. It felt like the calm before the storm, the silence before he got angry and hit him or reprimanded him or both. And yet, his father’s voice was calm when he eventually spoke up, “…Gregor has been thinking. About time when Gregor was your age, which was very long time ago.”

Inigo stopped sniveling and glanced up, shocked into silence. His father had almost never opted to start conversation when he’d burst into tears, and he had most definitely _never_ told him anything about his past. He didn’t dare breathe, worried that if he made so much as a sound Gregor would stop talking and decide to beat him after all.

“Gregor’s parents were always very tough on him. When Gregor was small, father forced him to stay in tree for three days and three nights because Gregor slacked in training. He had no water, food; he would eat tree sap and leaves whenever hungry. Gregor was very upset with parents, just like you are upset with Gregor.”

It was…strange hearing this side of his father. Inigo had no idea that Gregor had gone through similar things that he had; he’d had no idea he’d ever be able to sympathize with his father. But…if Gregor had known what he was going through all along, why had he insisted on harping on everything? Why hadn’t he shown Inigo the compassion he’d longed for from his own parents as a child?

Lost in his own thoughts, Inigo almost missed when Gregor started speaking again. “After tree incident, Gregor figure he train harder. But by then, was too late – Gregor made stupid mistake in battle. Cost him life of his brother. Took long time to come to terms that brother’s death was not Gregor’s fault. Gregor think that he be taking out some of pain from that on Inigo.”

Inigo froze. He felt physically run over by what his father had just said. Gregor had…lost his brother? And it was because he hadn’t trained hard enough? Inigo couldn’t even imagine losing someone close to him like that, like Lucina, his mother, Laurent… “Father, I had no idea…”

“Because Gregor never told you.” Inigo’s father pushed away his empty soup bowl before taking a deep breath and looking up to face Inigo for the first time since he’d began. “Gregor was worried you would make same mistake if Gregor was not hard on you, but only method he knew how was by copying parents. In end he’s acting just like parents, parents that were strict and disliked by Gregor. Gregor realized he didn’t want to be same way; Gregor does not want to be hated by his own son.”

Inigo flinched, filled with guilt. He’d forgotten that he’d told his father that he hated him, forgotten that he’d felt that way for even a moment. He didn’t know what he felt now that he knew why his father acted the way he did. It made sense, but had it _really_ taken Gregor nearly nineteen years to realize how miserable he was making Inigo, how many insecurities and how little self-esteem he had now?

Although, maybe it was because Inigo had finally found the courage to say how he felt to his face that Gregor could tell him this; maybe neither of them had been ready for this conversation until now.

“I don’t… _hate_ you, dad,” Inigo said eventually, continuing to stare down at the table. He feared he wouldn’t be able to say what he needed to say if he looked at Gregor now. “It’s just…you’ve always found something _wrong_ with me. If it wasn’t the way I wielded a sword it was something else. _You’ve_ always hated _me_ for one of the few things I’ve found that I really enjoy. All I’ve ever wanted to do was make you proud of me, but no matter what I did that was impossible…”  

He was crying again, and he wiped fiercely at his eyes with his arm as he continued, “I know you think I should like fighting because I’m a boy, but I _don’t_. I like wielding a sword and practicing because it brings me closer to people I love, like you and Lucina, but my real passion is dancing, dad! I want to be as good as mom; I want to be able to stand in front of an audience and perform and have people enjoy what I do! Mom makes people happy when she dances; I want to do that too! I’ve always wanted to do that! So go ahead and hate me, but this is who I am! And I’m not going to hide it from you anymore!”

Gregor seemed shocked, and for a moment he said nothing at all. Inigo tried his best to stop crying, but it seemed impossible; the tears just kept flowing and flowing down his cheeks until he could barely see. He was terrified of what his father would say; he had no idea how to predict Gregor’s actions now with everything he had just learned.

“…Gregor does not hate you! He is just…uncomfortable with idea of dancing boy,” Gregor finally said, pausing again before continuing, “Gregor had no idea Inigo felt this way. To being honest, Gregor never thought he would have kids. Gregor already old when you were born; he didn’t know how to be good father. …Maybe Gregor still doesn’t know how to be good father.”

“I-I just…” Inigo’s voice broke and trembled as he continued, “I just wanted you to be proud of me…”

Suddenly his father was reaching across the table, wiping some of the tears off of Inigo’s cheeks with his fingers. The dancer almost flinched with how much the gesture surprised him. His father’s hands were rough and calloused from years of wielding a sword, but there was something gentle in the way they brushed against Inigo’s skin.

“Gregor _is_ proud of you. Should say it more often.”

Inigo’s lip trembled and he just started crying harder. He never thought he would hear the day when his father would say he was proud of him; it was what he’d always wanted that it seemed too good to be true.

“Inigo, please, you be making Gregor cry too.”

Glancing up at his father, the dancer was surprised to see that Gregor _did_ look misty eyed – it almost didn’t seem real. Inigo was seeing so many sides of his father that he never knew existed that it was like he was a totally different person. Where had this person been all of his life? Had he been so lost in his memories and regrets that he’d failed to see the damage of his actions all this time?

“I-I didn’t know you cried too,” Inigo admitted, unsure if it was alright for him to say so.

“Olivia is not only one you get trait from, yes?” Gregor laughed for a moment before saying seriously, “Inigo, Gregor be wanting to apologize. He has realized importance of talking about feelings; in talking to dead brother through creepy lady recently, Gregor come to terms with his pain and regrets, which allow him to be critical of his own actions. Gregor will try to be better father in future, but old habits hard to kill, yes?”

Inigo couldn’t believe his father was actually _apologizing_ to him. It was a lot to take in, the fact that something may actually finally change in their relationship. He wondered with tentative excitement what it would be like to finally have the father-son relationship he’d always wanted with Gregor. “Well, for starters…do you think you could teach me to ride a horse?”

Gregor laughed loudly at that, straight from the belly, and Inigo’s heart warmed as his tears finally stopped. “Of course, of course! But first – you have something to be working out with someone else, hm?”

The dancer flinched at that. Had Gregor guessed the reason why he’d been working himself to exhaustion? “…How did you know?”

“Gregor also work himself to near exhaustion when worried about being too old and inferior to Olivia.” Gregor offered his son a small smile. “You are hurting; Gregor has learned that you should talk to person that make you hurt.”

“I want to, I’m just…afraid.” Inigo chewed his lip as he stared down at the table again, his stomach twisting at the thought of Laurent. “…It’s probably too late to fix anything…”

“But is it not better to try and fail than to never be trying at all?” Gregor fixed him with a stern look; it was almost comforting, something Inigo recognized from the father he thought he knew. “Do not be chickening on something that could bring you much happiness.”

Inigo realized that his father was right. Though the thought brought a nauseating amount of doubt and fear to his gut, the dancer knew that he couldn’t keep going on like this, missing Laurent and sinking further and further into despair. He needed to try and talk to the mage about it, to try and fix whatever he had screwed up; if he didn’t there was no doubt he would always regret it.

And besides, if he could start to patch up things with his father, surely he could do the same thing with Laurent?

“…You’re right dad!” Inigo stood from the table suddenly, piling everything onto his tray as he prepared to leave the dining hall. “I’m going to talk to him right now!”

He started to hurry away, before he stopped and turned back. “…Thanks for everything!”

“It was no trouble! Oh, and Inigo?” As the dancer watched him curiously, Gregor clenched his jaw for a moment before nodding at his son. “Gregor need to get used to idea, but…maybe someday Inigo dance for Gregor.”

Inigo’s heart just about leapt to his throat and for a moment he could barely breathe. They still had a lot to work out, and the dancer knew it might take a while for his father to get used to the fact that he danced, but it was a step in the right direction and more progress than they’d made in _years_. It was enough to make the future seem hopeful for once. “Yes, father, I’d love that!”

And, as he finally left the mess hall and headed for Laurent’s tent, Inigo was smiling for the first time in a long while.

 

\--

 

Laurent’s life had quite suddenly become unbearable.

It was painful to be with Inigo; it was painful to be without him. He had tried to revert to his old self when he was around his friend, before he’d realized he felt so strongly for him, but it had felt so wrong that it had taken all of his energy just to maintain a neutral façade. Every smile sent his way had brought a deep and aching longing; every fleeting touch made his heart leap to his throat. Everything that had once been mundane and normal now seemed to trigger Laurent in ways that had quickly become frightening; he did not have a firm control over his feelings. It was all he could do to keep himself from sweeping Inigo off of his feet and confessing that he liked him in a way that he shouldn’t and would probably never be reciprocated.

Terrified by the possibility of his logic and control slipping away so easily, he had only been able to see one way to isolate this emotion and destroy it, and that was to keep his distance from Inigo for a while.

But he quickly discovered that that was just as damning; he missed Inigo. _Terribly_. Not going out to see him at night like usual was pure torture, every inch of his body begging to see him, desperate to see his smile and hear his laugh and watch the way his body moved in a beautiful and intricate dance. Though he tried to distract himself by writing, it was useless; everything ended up being about Inigo. He had gone from describing every last detail of Inigo’s dance to sketching out love poems that involved every little thing he had grown fond of over the time they had spent together.

It was horrifying, how easily his control still managed to slip. If he so much as let his mind wander for even a second he found himself thinking about Inigo, his heart aching so badly all of the time that he felt absolutely miserable.

He was starting to wonder if shutting Inigo out had been the wrong choice, but the alternative seemed wrong as well. The only thing that remained was to embrace the emotion, but just the idea seemed impossible. How could he, logical scientist that he was, ever accept the fact that he had fallen in love with another _male_? And even if that wasn’t a major crisis within itself and he was fine with it, bringing life to his emotion would certainly lead nowhere; he would never be able to tell Inigo with the fear that if he did he would lose the dancer’s friendship, and so he would end up miserable and exhausted anyway.

It seemed like no matter what he did he reached the same outcome. He didn’t know what to do and it frustrated him, ate away at him at night so that he could barely focus on writing or experimenting or _anything_.

What was he supposed to do? Was there truly no antidote for love?

If there wasn’t, he needed to find a formula for it and soon; not just for Inigo, but for his broken relationship with his mother as well. They had not spoken a word to each other since their argument, though this was mainly because Laurent had never gone back to try and fix things, despite how much it was killing him not to. He’d thought about it, but every time he remembered all of the things his mother had said to him, and that now he was only worse off emotional wise, he lost his nerve.

He had never in his life felt so helpless – no matter how much he thought, no solutions came to him. He was afraid to face his father and ask for assistance, as he felt like if he had to add one more emotion to the swirling mass inside of him he might actually explode.

Why was this so difficult? Was this what his mother had tried to protect him from all of this time? If so, then why had he disobeyed her?

With his constant emotional turmoil, Laurent had trouble focusing on his daily tasks the following week. He was so distraught that he completely forgot he was meeting Gerome for their rounds one day, forgot to eat the next, misplaced his entire novel only to find it jammed behind his desk another. He had, to use Inigo’s wording despite how much it hurt to do so, become a complete mess. And nothing, not even science, seemed to be able to fix it. He tried to work on his experiments, but more likely than not they would end in explosions or spontaneous combustion as he lost his focus thinking about Inigo.

Frankly put, nothing helped, and he only seemed to get worse and worse each day.

One night, after he’d nearly burnt his tent down mixing chemicals, Laurent decided to retire early. He was exhausted, a kind of fatigue that hung heavy on him and made all movements and thoughts sluggish. He could not remember a time when he was more tired, when he would rather just curl up and go to sleep than work on his novel or experiments. It was depressing, how quickly his out of control emotions sapped at his energy and prevented him from thinking clearly. He realized, logically, that he could not continue living his life this way, but every time he turned the problem over in his mind he reached the same conclusion: it was unsolvable. No course of action could lead to anything better than this that he could foresee, and as Laurent gingerly laid down onto his cot he was surprised to find that he was crying.

If he had only listened to his mother, none of this would have happened. He would be performing intriguing experiments with her, she and Kellam would be happy, and he never would have gotten to know Inigo.

Laurent’s heart throbbed at the thought of the dancer. Did he really wish he had never found Inigo in the woods that night? His mind said yes but his heart said no; even then, the only thing he ached to do with all of his being was to see him, to just hear his laugh or smell his unique scent.

He wondered, with sudden desperation, if it would really be such a bad thing to let his love grow – wouldn’t it be okay as long as he got to see Inigo? Even if he never disclosed his feelings, wouldn’t being together still be better than this horrible ache in his chest that seemed to eat him up from the inside?

Before the mage could ponder it further, he heard footsteps crunching outside his tent and he was instantly alert. What could it be? His father, Chrom, a Risen? His fingers inched towards the Reexcalibur tome he kept near his pillow, but stopped when a familiar scent hit his nose. Every muscle in his body froze, and he inhaled deeply, wondering if he was dreaming, knew that he had to be.

After all, there was no probability…

“Laurent?” A soft voice spoke tentatively just outside his tent, and Laurent’s heart nearly leapt into his throat – it was impossible, and yet it was true!

It was Inigo!!

“Inigo, come in!” Laurent breathed when the tight constriction around his chest finally faded, scrambling to sit up and pull his robe back on so he could be presentable for the other. He was going to meet the dancer at the flap to his tent, elation making his heart throb wildly in his chest, before he hesitated, realizing what was going on.

He was submitting to his emotions again, letting them run wild while his brain thought slowly in the background. Though he had been glad, _ecstatic_ , when he’d first heard Inigo’s voice, he now felt uneasy, unsure of how to act around the other, which course of action he should take. Had it been a good idea to invite him in? Wouldn’t all of the days he had tried to squash his emotions be wasted if he did?

But it was too late now – Inigo was stepping into his tent, his arm raised to lift the flap over his head.

Taking one look at his friend, Laurent felt his heart sink all the way down to his stomach. Inigo looked… _awful_ , to put it kindly. He had dark, prominent bags under his eyes that had certainly not been there previously and he was thin, dangerously thin, as if it had been quite some while since he had eaten properly. His muscles still seemed well toned, though it only seemed to be in his arms – his legs had lost their roundness. Had it been a while since he had danced? Why did he seem to unwell?

…Was it because of _Laurent_?

“…Inigo…?” Laurent had been going to ask if he was quite well, but he trailed off, as it was quite obvious that he was _not_. Just the idea that he had reduced his friend to this state made him feel sick.

“I, um, I know you don’t want to see me, but… I need to talk to you,” Inigo mumbled down at his feet, hovering awkwardly near the door. Laurent wanted to shake him and tell him that it wasn’t true, that he had wanted nothing _but_ to see him, but before he could the dancer was continuing. “I just…T-these last few w-weeks have been really hard, a-and I just….I want to know what I did wrong!!”

The words shocked Laurent – when had Inigo done _anything_ wrong? He could not understand, but once again he failed to respond before the dancer went on, his heart heavy as he realized that Inigo had started to cry. “I-I’ve thought really hard about everything, and I d-don’t know what I d-did, but I’ll try and fix it, I p-p-promise! Unless you d-don’t want me to, in which c-case I’ll just l-leave you alone…”

Laurent had seen Inigo cry before, but seeing him now was so heartbreaking that the mage almost felt like he was going to cry too. “L-Laurent, if you h-hate me, j-just let me know!! I-I’ll be sad, but I’d rather know – I can’t take this anymore!!”

“…Inigo, no, that’s not how I feel at all…!” Laurent was surprised how easily everything slipped away, how easily he dropped the clumsy walls he’d attempted to build around himself to shut out all emotions. His body was moving on its own as he stepped forward and pulled Inigo into a tight hug, holding him for dear life as he nuzzled his face into the top of the dancer’s head. The spontaneity of it frightened Laurent, and yet it felt _right_ , like he’d been missing an important part of the puzzle and hugging Inigo had slotted everything into place. His brain seemed hyper aware to everything regarding Inigo; how skinny he felt now, the soft tickling of his hair against Laurent’s chin, his soft scent of pine wafting over him, his hands tightly clenching the back of Laurent’s robes, the heat emanating from his body. It all felt so natural, and Kellam’s words echoed in his mind, _when you find that special person, you just know_. Though Laurent had struggled to understand before, it felt obvious now:

He loved Inigo. The realization felt a lot warmer in his chest than he thought it would.

“…I could never hate you,” he eventually murmured, leaning his head down slightly so that he could murmur into Inigo’s ear. His heart was full, and it was startling after how empty he had felt recently. He had never experienced anything like it, and it was fascinating yet terrifying at the same time.

“…Why then?” Inigo sniffled, and the vulnerability of his voice, muffled by Laurent’s cloak, only made the mage pull him closer. “Why did you suddenly shut yourself off from me?”

Guilt struck Laurent, hard. He had been so upset that he’d failed to foresee how his actions would affect Inigo, even though he knew how fragile and insecure the dancer could be. He had failed to think about his friend, to care about him, and he felt ashamed of that fact. “…I am truly regretful of that, Inigo. I had a fight with my mother, and I am afraid that I let that bother me so much that I hurt you very deeply. Please accept my sincerest apologies.”

Despite everything, Laurent heard Inigo snort against his chest. When the dancer leaned back slightly to look up at him, he had a soft, teasing smile that looked so beautiful, even through his tears, that the mage’s heart began to beat erratically. “For gods’ sake, Laurent, a simple ‘I’m sorry’ is enough.”

Laurent smiled back, his heart warm with love for the man before him. “Very well. I’m sorry, Inigo.”

“…So we’re good?” Inigo asked, lifting his arm to wipe the remaining tears from his face.

“We are good.” Laurent managed a small smile; he felt he spoke the truth, despite his concern about how they would proceed from here. Based on the findings of last week, it was better to be with Inigo than without, so he would just have to find a way to cope and deal with his unwanted feelings. “I have never had a friend as good as you, and I apologize that I fail consistently to show that to you.”

“Well, you’re still learning right?” Inigo’s tears appeared to have stopped, and he beamed at the mage. “It’s good to know you’ll still need me around for that anyway!”

“I will always need you around,” Laurent murmured quietly, and he had the odd urge then to reach up and cup Inigo’s cheek in his hand. Luckily he caught himself before he actually did it, but his brow furrowed at the thought that it might be a lot more difficult to keep his emotions in check than he had thought.

Inigo flushed at that, the hue making Laurent’s heart flop in his chest, and looked down at his feet bashfully. “Stop that, Laurent, you’re embarrassing me!”

Laurent smiled warmly and realized that he was perfectly content holding Inigo in his arms like this. He never wanted to let go, as ridiculous as that sounded, and he wondered if stifling his emotions for so long was making them leak out of him more strongly now that he was less inclined to control them. It seemed incredible that his mother had been able to hold out for so long, that knowing Kellam hadn’t made her feel so warm and happy as Laurent did now that she decided she didn’t want to hold back her emotions anymore.

Could it be that…Miriel had truly never loved Kellam, in the way that the general so obviously loved her?

The thought put a damper on his mood and, as if somehow picking up on that, Inigo asked quietly, “…What happened with your mother, anyway?”

Laurent took a big, shaky breath. He had no idea how to begin, how to address the hollowness that still clung to his heart despite Inigo’s presence. He trusted the dancer, he truly did, but he had barely allowed himself to even _think_ about what had transpired last week, afraid that if he did he would dissolve into a puddle of pain and sadness.

But Inigo was here now. Inigo, who would listen and support him no matter what, and who would understand his problems more than anyone else would or could. Now that he and the dancer were talking again, most of the pain in Laurent’s heart had subsided; maybe now he could bear to face what had happened.

“I-I…” Goodness, his voice was shaking already. Pausing, Laurent cleared his throat, tried to focus on the warmth emanating from Inigo and his accelerated heartbeat he could feel from where he held the dancer against his chest. “I went to her to ask her advice for…a dilemma I had, and we got into an argument… She said…. She forbade me from ever seeing her again…”

“…What?” Inigo’s eyes were blown so wide Laurent could see the whites, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. The mage could only wish that it was something he had fabricated. “Why?!”

“I-I…” Now it was Laurent who felt on the verge of tears. He never could have imagined how difficult it was to talk about this, how impossible it was to continue keeping the flood of emotions at bay. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if looking at nothing would make this any easier. “I told her that…I didn’t want to be a scientist if it meant being like her…”

“…Oh my god, Laurent…” Inigo softly whispering his name seemed to be the last thing the mage could handle. He dissolved into tears, fat drops slipping out between his shut eyelids and making his shoulders shake at the effort to not wail out loud. He was aware of nothing but his own overwhelming sadness and the warmth of Inigo’s hand reaching up to cup his cheek, the touch stirring something in Laurent that he was in no mood to identify. “…Did you really mean that?”

“…Yes.” Somehow admitting that made it worse, like he was betraying his mother. The more he had thought about what had happened, the less he had been able to see his words as anything but truth. Though he had spoken without thinking, his words themselves had been locked deep in his heart, perhaps buried by the fears that he hadn’t dared speak until that moment, waiting for their turn to be released. With how much he cared for and worried about his father, Laurent could not imagine a world in which he inflicted the same sadness and loneliness on his loved ones. He would not be able to bear it; he had already hurt Inigo, and he felt so guilty about it that he had already vowed he would never do it again. After seeing the effects of his actions on the dancer, there was no plausible way he could even _consider_ repeating history in the future.

So how could Miriel live with herself every day that she ignored her family, knowing that she put them through the same pains over and over again?

Laurent could simply not understand it; work and relationships were both important, and both deserved equal amounts of attention. If nothing else, that at least he was sure of.

“So you don’t want to be a scientist anymore?” Inigo asked quietly. Laurent, lost in his thoughts, hadn’t even noticed when Inigo’s hand had moved from his cheek to his back and had started rubbing soft circles there in calm, soothing motions. He could already feel his tears drying from the warmth of the gesture, and he couldn’t help but smile a little as he nuzzled into the dancer’s hair.

“I do, but not in the way that my mother is. I refuse to hurt my loved ones by ignoring them and pushing them away constantly just for the sake of my research; I believe there _must_ be a way to have both an inquiring mind and a loving heart, and I at least plan to strive to be able to have both. It is not worth it otherwise.”

“That’s beautiful, Laurent.” Inigo pulled back slightly to smile up at Laurent, a bright, toothy smile that made the mage’s heart feel like it was melting. “You really do have a way with words – no wonder you write.”

Laurent could not help but blush at the praise; he had never been told that before. “ Really? Because countless other experiences would suggest that I am in fact almost… _too_ wordy.”

“Well, that’s true too I guess!” Inigo laughed before he patted Laurent’s shoulder blade comfortingly. “There must be a way to make your mom see reason. It’s ridiculous that she’s doing this to you and Kellam!”

“I agree, but I feel it is…unwise to approach her again until more time has passed.” Pain stabbed Laurent’s heart, and he took a deep breath in an effort to stall the tears that threatened to fall again. “Again, I am sorry I put you through so much pain because of this, Inigo… You are the last person I want to hurt.”

“It’s really okay, Laurent.” Inigo was still smiling softly as he reached up and, in a way that was strangely intimate, brushed a forming tear out of Laurent’s eye. “I’m just so relieved that it wasn’t because of something I did – I was so scared I had ruined everything somehow!”

“There is no probable outcome where you would ruin anything,” Laurent murmured, and managed a small smile in return. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, Inigo.”

The dancer blushed, a brilliant dark red spreading across his cheeks and tinging his ear tips. “Wha—? Laurent, don’t just say embarrassing stuff like that!!”

And, to his further surprise, Laurent laughed outright at that. He loved seeing Inigo blush. “Alright, I will try not to in the future.”

The mage did not know how to process how happy he was right now as he stood there with the man he loved in his arms. The idea still seemed so foreign, a strange force that urged him to touch Inigo here or notice how the light bathed him there, and yet it felt _right_ , like many emotions in his life had not. Though before he had cursed his emotions, now he could not remember what it had been like before; he could hardly remember a time when he had felt anything but love for Inigo. It felt natural, in a way that was both scary and fascinating, and Laurent distractedly noted that he would have to write this down later, transcribe this tranquil peace that he had never felt before.  He saw now that letting his emotions bloom had been the correct choice; and while he still did not know how to act upon the feelings that felt like they were going to leak out of him at any given moment, he knew that, for now, this was fine.

As long as he could have Inigo by his side, he could get through anything.

“Will you stay the night?” Laurent asked eventually after he realized he had been staring silently at Inigo for longer than was probably appropriate.

Inigo seemed surprised by the question. “Do you want me to?”

“I would enjoy it very much – I have missed your company.”

The dancer’s small smile was back. “Then I’ll stay; I’ve missed you too, after all!”

That made Laurent smile again too. It was nice to know that his friend desired his company as well and that he wouldn’t have to spend tonight as lonely as he had felt all week.

However, as they got ready to turn in, he realized quickly a small problem that had slipped his mind before: he, as always, only had one bed. Though the problem had arisen previously, the mage had failed to think about it once again and had no idea what to offer Inigo. He was completely fine with sharing, _craved_ it even, but he did not want to make his friend uncomfortable, especially since he still was unsure of the course of action he should take regarding his crush.

He glanced almost shyly at Inigo. “Do you want your own bed? I could go ask my father for extra sheets…”

“I don’t mind sharing if you don’t.” Laurent almost thought Inigo was blushing again, but the dancer was too quick to plop down and make himself comfortable on Laurent’s bed for him to get a good look.

Though really, it didn’t matter because he was blushing as well – this was the second time they would be sharing a bed, the first where they were both sober for it. He hadn’t cared at all before, but tonight would be so _different_.

He just hoped he would not embarrass himself and make things weird between them again. He was starting to see why having a good rein on one’s emotions could be a vital life skill.

After Laurent had scribbled a couple of ideas into his notebook, he turned off the light and got settled in bed next to Inigo. His bed was small, as it was made only for him, so they had to lay on their sides to make room for each other so that they could both be fully under the covers. Laurent found himself facing Inigo, the dancer’s features blurry now that he did not have his glasses on. He squinted, trying to bring his face into focus. Did he feel as content as Laurent did right now?

“Hey Laurent?” Inigo’s hushed voice startled him.

“Yes?”

“I should give you another dancing lesson tomorrow. It’ll be fun!”

Laurent was instantly weary. “I am not so sure I should… I injured your foot quite badly last time.”

“Oh come on, it’s not like I was crippled.” Inigo snorted. Laurent could just make out the teasing smirk pulling at his lips. “Don’t you want to?”

“…Yes,” he admitted, though he wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt so embarrassed and… _bashful_. “I would like to dance with you fully someday, Inigo.”

“…I’d like that too.” It was quiet for a moment before the dancer continued. “Hey, I’m sorry if I kind of freaked you out the other day… Saying I was thinking about only wanting to dance for you and stuff…”

Laurent tilted his head to the side, puzzled. “That did not concern me. I am happy as long as you are; I would be privileged if you would allow me the honor of being your sole audience.”

To his delight, Inigo laughed. “Thanks, Laurent – I really appreciate your support.”

“Is that truly what you want, though? To dance only for me?” Inigo had seemed unsure previously, but it had been some time and Laurent didn’t know how he felt now.

There was a long pause before Inigo answered. “…I really don’t know, Laurent. I actually…I think I’m actually starting to patch things up with my dad, and I realized earlier today how much I would love to dance for him someday, too. So I was thinking…maybe I can add one audience member at a time or something, until I finally get to where I want to be.”

“I think that sounds like a perfect execution of your goal,” Laurent replied, a smile growing on his lips at the information. “Inigo, that is wonderful! I am relieved that your dad has come to see reason.”

“Thanks! It’s so crazy, you know? I think all along my dad’s been trying to figure out how to interact with me the same way I’ve been trying to figure out how to interact with him and we just failed too many times and got frustrated, you know? I mean there’s still a long way to go and I don’t expect it to be fixed right away, but _god_ Laurent this is the first time I’ve ever felt _hopeful_ about it! And it’s all because of you!”

Laurent blinked, taken aback. “Me?”

“I think you gave me the courage to tell my father how I really felt, Laurent. Maybe not directly, but I don’t think we ever would have talked about it if I hadn’t known you, if you hadn’t already supported me through so much.” Inigo reached out and found Laurent’s hand under the blanket, squeezing. “Thank you.”

Laurent’s entire body felt hot, and he was suddenly thankful that his blindness prevented him from seeing Inigo’s face clearly. He felt so unbearably _happy_ then that he could barely contain it, and he was sure that, if he’d been able to clearly see the dancer’s face, he would have lost control completely.

As it was, he managed to rein it in into just a small smile as he squeezed Inigo’s hand back. “If that is true, then I am happy I was able to help in some way. I always wondered why your father was so hard on you when he did not portray himself that way in front of everyone else.”

“Yeah, I wondered about that too – that’s why it hurt so much. I thought he really had to hate me to make him act so differently around me.” Inigo sighed and shifted closer, their faces so close together on the pillow suddenly that Laurent could feel the dancer’s breath on his skin and see the grin pulling at Inigo’s lips. “I can’t believe how happy I am right now, Laurent. I feel like I don’t have a single thing to worry about for the first time in my life.”

“I feel that way as well.” Despite the painful situation that still existed with his mother, with Inigo this close to him he hardly felt the sting. It was completely overtaken by the warmth and happiness that filled his heart just from being around the dancer, from the knowledge that they were friends again, from the hope that this would and could last forever. He was so choked up with emotion that he almost just said it; he almost opened his mouth and said how much he loved Inigo, how much he wanted to be around him for the rest of his life, how he would marry him if he could.

But he kept his jaw shut, not wanting to tarnish this moment with something else for the both of them to worry about.

For the first time, the two of them were at peace, and for now he wanted to keep it that way.

“Good night, Inigo,” Laurent murmured, rolling over briefly to blow out the candle by the bed, shrouding them in darkness.

When he rolled back around, their faces were still close, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could tell that Inigo was smiling fondly. “Night, Laurent.”

The mage couldn’t stop a small smile from inching onto his face. He was glad that he had offered Inigo to stay the night; he was glad the dancer had accepted. He was glad that they could lie here together and not feel awkward about it; he had never imagined he could enjoy something so intimate like this, but he was and he didn’t regret it. Emotions such as love were something wild, and they came with a sense of freedom that Laurent had never felt before, had never _allowed_ himself to feel before.

And it was magical.

Finally content, Laurent closed his eyes, his hand still loosely grasping Inigo’s, and fell asleep to the soothing lull of his friend’s heartbeat against his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a clarification, Inigo's talk with Gregor happens shortly after Gregor has his canon talk with Tharja. If anyone never paired them/read the conversation or just doesn't remember it, justonegamr has some really great videos of all of the Fire Emblem conversations on youtube if you feel you need the context :) I really love that conversation despite my dislike of Tharja, it was so touching for Gregor!! (As you can probably tell, I was feeling nostalgic and spending WAAAAY too much time watching old convos. So that's my excuse for why this chapter took forever. Definitely) I hope Gregor's change of heart didn't seem too abrupt xD;;
> 
> Anyway, thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed!! Someday I'll have a regular updating schedule, but that day is not today or anytime soon xD" Thanks for putting up with me!

**Author's Note:**

> This one will actually be multi-chapter since I have such a strong head cannon for these two :3 I was so touched by their DLC conversation, where Laurent actually supported Inigo’s desire to be a dancer, that I can’t help but love the two of them together. Also, usually I don’t like to specify parents so people can imagine them as they please, but for this story it’s very important to my head cannon. I’ve always imagined Gregor as a tough father, and he was also the first father I had for Inigo, so yeah.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story! It might be a while until I update it, but I will finish it eventually because I love writing it!  
> Thanks for reading!


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